


Downloading...

by weirdpurplepanda



Series: Downloading... [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, AU where Jim is actually Jim from IT, Arguing, Computers, Dates, He's a dick, Jim from IT, Jim loves computers, Kind of like texting but not, Kisses, Love, Love / Hate, M/M, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sheriarty AU, Sherlock AU, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, They are his life, computer stuff, like seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-23 06:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 53,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3758425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdpurplepanda/pseuds/weirdpurplepanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's tired of that damn Sherlock Holmes shooting his computers so he confronts the quirky man about it, urging him to pay for his beloved computers this time. Sherlock does but after that Sherlock seems to be everywhere Jim is. Even his flat.<br/>Jim is not a happy bunny.. or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unacceptable Behaviour

In front of him sat five computer screens. All set up so Jim could sit on his swirly chair and only need to turn a few degrees to see them (and no it wasn't laziness, it was efficiency - he got more done when he could see more screens). Two of the screens were on, displaying the screensaver. Although Jim's attention wasn't on the multicoloured bubbles floating around the dark screen.

No, he was gaping at the other three computers. They were completely destroyed. Bullet holes piercing straight through the screens and large chucks missing from where they'd been shot at so much. The glass was cracked, obviously, and Jim could see the wiring inside.

Suddenly, one sparked and without hesitation Jim dropped to the floor and crawled under the desk to turn all the plugs off and pull them. No way was he leaving the computers plugged into the mains in their condition.

With a frustrated huff, Jim crawls backwards and opens a draw on the left side of the desk, below the damaged computers and he pulls out the folder containing the purchase information of the desktops and all paperwork for them.

Jim stands and straightens his top as he looks at the computers again. His chest ached. His poor, beautiful computers...

He knew exactly who had done this. The only person that runs around shooting things when he's bored or angry.

Sherlock bloody Holmes.

Mad, gorgeous genius or not, Jim desperately wants to slap that man across his smug face as hard as he could possibly manage at this moment in time (which, considering his anger and heartache, would probably be quite hard and therefore painful for the berk).

Ugh. Jim wanted to wring the man's neck and shout abuse at Sherlock's cold corpse.  He didn't like how Sherlock brought out this violent streak. He was never a loud or aggressive person, not really, but Sherlock sure made him want to be at times. The man was just so infuriating! Prancing around Bart's like he owned the place and could do any damn thing he wanted. Yet he'd never been caught by someone who could actually ban him from entering the building - then again, the man probably knows the bosses or something and would get out of it with a snap of his fingers. 

Normally, Jim wouldn't give a flying rat's behind about what mad things Sherlock got up here to but this... this was  _unacceptable_.

Jim may be a softie usually but you do not, and he repeats do  _not_ _,_ mess with his computers. He will turn from an Irish cutie that would be the most charming lad ever if you took him home to your mother to a fowl mouthed monster that scares off that scary aunt in seconds.

Jim blinks, reminding himself that he is not an angry person. Well, he didn't  _want_ to be an angry person.

After taking a calming breath, Jim picks up the large folder he'd sat beside his computers and tucks it under his arm. He then turns on his heels and makes his way out of the door.

Jim takes a left and pulls his t-shirt down, self conscious about the way others in the department were glancing at him. Even among the 'computer nuts' Jim spent an ungodly amount of time with the wonderful machines.

He just found their company better than most humans company. Computers made sense. Humans.. well, they didn't. Not to Jim anyway. They were confusing, gave off mixed signals and liked to speak in riddles. Computers were straight to the point. They didn't mess with your head.

The stairwell down to the labs was empty and Jim was thankful, his short legs meant he didn't like to risk taking more then one step at a time (although he could easily). He'd always stumble and trip when he took them two at a time, his mind convincing him that he'd fall - it was a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy.

When Jim reaches the door to the lab, he peers in to check who was in there. As he expected, Sherlock Holmes was sat behind a microscope and was looking as sociable as a hermit. Jim wondered if that's how he appeared to others when he was on a computer.

He does a double take of the lab, checking for signs of anyone else just in case.

He was glad Molly wasn't there, too. Things had been awkward ever since she'd realised he was about as straight as a rainbow. They'd parted as friends and still chatted or exchange a text now and then but it was mainly just weird and awkward.

He felt horrid for using the poor girl in the way he did. He just thought it would be an easy way to meet someone without venturing too far from Bart's. Much like Molly, he spent 90% of his time here and despised being at home. ( His flat wasn't even a home. A home implies warmth, family and safety. His flat was an empty shell. Bleak and bare. He hated it. He envied Molly in a way - at least she had a cat to go home to)

Jim hadn't intended it to be more than a friendship but, being a human, he gave Molly all the wrong signals and the woman assumed they were dating. An idea Jim went along with to be a little less lonely for a while... because even 'computer nuts' feel like having friends now and then.

Had Jim had any actual interest in the girl, they could have been an excellent pair. Two lonely souls, just spending time with one another in a foolish attempt to convince themselves they weren't lonely.

Although, Jim supposes he is happy. With his computers. That's all he  _really_ needs. Same with Molly and her science/dead bodies. Even if, occasionally, that lonely feeling strikes. The computers, the stability of them, would always be there.

Jim takes a small breath once again, reminding himself why he was here, outside the lab. It wasn't to have deep thoughts about his life and status of happiness, that was for sure. He was here to bitch at Sherlock for being a stupid git.

Folder tucked securely under his arm, Jim pushes the door open quickly and marches right up to where Sherlock sat looking into the microscope. The taller man ignores him, as always, too absorbed in his work.

Jim's anger spikes in the way only Sherlock seemed capable of making it flare. He slams the folder down on the desk beside the microscope, directly onto the paper Sherlock had been scribbling notes on, demanding Sherlock's attention.

Sherlock blinks innocently and looks up at the angered man, taking his time about it too. Jim huffs at the action, red faced in annoyance by this point. This guy! He was unbelievable! Utterly  _unbelievable_!

Jim gestures to the folder, trying to keep calm and passive. "You owe me £12,000 for the three very expensive computers of mine you shot!"

Yet, still, his volume gets higher at the end, anger creeping in. Jim's tone had turned harsh as he glares at the still innocent looking man before him. He can't help it. Sherlock had  _shot_ his computers!

A smirk slowly slides over Sherlock's lips. "I wondered when you'd be paying me a visit, James"

Jim grits his teeth and clenches his fists. He was so close to hitting Sherlock right in his pretty face. For one, he was acting so damn innocent about this all and two, he  _knew_ Jim hated to be called by his full name.

He was purposely trying to rattle Jim - and he was doing so perfectly. Jim is sure Sherlock took some weird twisted pleasure in seeing him on the verge of brutally beating the detective to death with the closest blunt object.

"Next time you throw a temper tantrum, destroy your own bloody equipment! I expect the money or new computers by the end of this week, Sherlock. I've had enough. This makes it a total of six computers you've destroyed! I've had e-bloody-nough" Jim takes a deep breathing after he snarls those words, calming the slight pant his breath held.

He turns on his heels and begins to leave but is stopped half way by Sherlock's deep voice.

"You spend far too much time in that room, James"

Sherlock's tone told Jim he had that overly amused smirk on his lips again. It told Jim Sherlock knew exactly how much he was getting under the other man's skin and just how much he enjoyed doing so.

Jim spins to face the other man, his arms folding over his chest automatically as he glares as menacingly as he can. " _That_ , of all things, does not give you  _any_  right or reason to  _shoot_ my computers. They cost money Sherlock and there's no chance of me fixing them like with the first one you shot at. They're in  _pieces_!"

Jim did know that on occasion he could be a tad overdramatic but surely Sherlock saw how this was utterly, disgustingly unacceptable. Shooting someone's property, really, no one - especially Sherlock - could be stupid enough to think it was okay.

Well. Jim didn't think that was the problem. He thinks Sherlock knows perfectly well how not okay things like this were. Jim thinks that Sherlock purposely goes out of his way to break moral rules to such extremes.

He enjoys it. He gets off on it. Breaking rules and seeing people all worked up.

"How would you feel if I wrecked this lab? With all your work? Hm?" Jim hums at the ends of his question, raising an eyebrow at the silent smirking detective.

Sherlock shrugs "Easy to reproduce, should I need to. Unlikely I would, had I already gained the data I wanted"

Jim huffs, again. "Well, sorry, some of us need to revisit certain parts of our work. We can all have memories stored in a grand mental palace"

Sherlock chuckles, finding this whole ordeal far too amusing for Jim's liking. Jim's glare hardens further and he realises how he must look to Sherlock. A great big softie trying to look like intimidating to avoid looking like the push over that he kind of was. He was attempting to look like he stood a chance in a fight. A technique that Jim knew, from his school years, did not work.

Sherlock could have him on the floor in seconds, should it comes to physical power. Then in a battle of wits where they used their mental capabilities... Well, Sherlock clearly out shined him there too.

"You really do make me laugh, James--"

"My name is Jim! J-I-M.  _Jim_ " Jim hisses the words, uncrossing his arms and clenching his fists together.

"Nope, I believe it says James Moriarty on your birth certificate" Sherlock's smirk widens.

Jim tenses his jaw and glares at the other man, trying to think of a suitable comeback. Sherlock watches him closely, those ever changing, omniscient eyes analysing him.

After a few more moments of silence, Sherlock turns back to his microscope with another small chuckle. Jim would've noted how much more Sherlock was laughing compared to usual had his laughter not been directed at him (the man never laughed so much, in Jim's experience, and it was note worthy when he did).

"Just replace the damn computers, okay?" Jim gives a small defeated sigh before he trials out of the room.

He was ready to give up. That curly haired version of the devil certainly knew how to push Jim's buttons.


	2. Getting In The Good Books

Thankfully, it was only four days later when Jim walked into his office to see three brand new desktops sat on his desk, where the broken ones had previously been. They were shiny and the boxes had been placed by the site of the desk. Jim couldn't help smiling. God, they were gorgeous.

As he approaches them, something catches his eye. On the middle monitor was a green sticky note, with a messy scrawl on that was also sort of professional. Jim had no idea how the writing was both a disaster and perfect.

_'_ _Good_ _morning_ _,_ _James_ _;)_ _-SH_ _'_

Jim growls, mumbling a curse under his breath as he peels the note off and screws it up, no longer admiring the script. He falls down on his swirly chair, lifting his arms high and aiming for the bin. He throws the balled up sticky note with a flick of his wrist and.. misses.

With another grumbled curse, Jim stands and retrieves the ball of paper before placing it in the bin.

When Jim returns to his seat he spots a bundle of paperwork stuffed under one of his keyboards. How in Earth did he not spot them previously?

"Must be blind" Jim laughs to himself.

He then pulls them out and smiles when he sees that they're the receipts for the new monitors. His perfect, shiny, pretty, new monitors.

Jim was about to fold them up and put them all into his folder when a figure sat at the bottom on the page catches his eye.

_£14,999_ _._

Frowning, he checks over the paperwork, thinking that Sherlock got ripped off or that it was a mistake somehow. It soon comes to light, however, (after twenty minutes of checking and re-checking) that Sherlock had brought a new updated model of the monitor and desktop.

Jim pauses. He's not quite sure what to do.

Surely, Sherlock knew how much he spent and knew that these monitors were different. Even any idiot could see those things and Sherlock was far from an idiot.

Much like four days prior, Jim finds himself walking down the stairs and entering the lab.

Seeing as Sherlock didn't practically live here like Molly and Jim, he was no where in sight when Jim entered the lab. Jim's shoulders slump, supposing he shouldn't have assumed the man would be here.

He'd hoped to thank the man and give him back the extra money or something. As annoying as Sherlock is, Jim didn't want to take any money from him.

It's a lot for the computers as it is. Then Sherlock goes and pay nearly £3,000 more then he needed to! God, what kind of idiot repays by more needed too, thousands more than needed? And three days early too!

Jim had to thank him. Or yell at him.  _Something._

Groaning, Jim rests his head against the wall, tempted to pull back and start banging his forehead into the plaster. Maybe it would help. He could imagine he was headbutting Sherlock or something.

The door opens then and two voices reach Jim's ears. He quickly steps away from the wall to explain himself, panicked, but when he sees that it's Sherlock and John, Jim let's out a breath, glad it wasn't someone he didn't know. That would be awkward.

_'Hey_ _, don't mind me. I'm just awkwardly waiting for the guy that likes to shoot my_ _computers.'_

Yeah, that sounds fun. Not.

"James..." Sherlock trails off, a smile twitching at his lips. "Come to see me again? So soon?"

John sends them a weird look but neither seem to notice.

 _Be_ _nice_ _._ _Be_ _nice_ _._ _Don't_ _hit_ _him_ _._ Jim chants to himself, sucking in a deep breath.

Jim huffs "Shut up, Sherlock. I came to thank you, actually, so maybe stop being an arse for two seconds and let me"

What happened to  _be nice_? There's no hope for him if he can't even follow his own instructions correctly. Jesus.

Sherlock just laughs at that. "For someone with brand new computers, three days before the deadline might I add, you're in a bad mood"

Jim doesn't comment on that and simply shoves the receipt into Sherlock's hands. Sherlock looks down at it, small smile widening into a pleased smirk. He looks up after a moment and raises an eyebrow.

"Problem?"

Jim forces himself to stay calm and not slap away that smug look. Oh, how Jim dreamed of slapping that stupid (oddly beautiful) face.

"Yes, Sherlock.  _Problem_." Jim stresses the word "You went and spent three thousand pounds more then you needed too!"

Sherlock chuckles and shrugs. Jim suddenly get the impulsive urge to grip his shoulders and shake him until he sees sense. It certainly wasn't the first time Jim wanted to physically try to get through to the man. Shouting did nothing. Maybe a good slap would give everyone some peace. 

"Well, I've destroyed your computers before and not replaced them. I technically owe you far more" Sherlock removes his coat and hangs it up as he speaks.

Jim opens his mouth to argue back but finds he can't.

It's true. Sherlock has destroyed many of his computers and this is the first time he's replaced them. Ever.

Damn it. Sherlock was right again!

Jim drags a hand down his face, sighing. Today had already been a long, long day. He'd cut himself shaving, stepped on a pin, had to search for his favourite beanie, got yelled at by his neighbour for something he didn't do and he also got caught in the rain on the way into work.

He wanted to crawl back into bed and curl into a ball. Yeah, it was one of  _those_ days.

"Okay. Well, in that case, thank you. Seriously. I've wanted the new model for a while now" Jim smiles, genuinely, allowing the stress of the day to melt away. It's the first time he's given Sherlock a true smile.

Despite it being one of those days he can't stop the bubble of excitement that is brewing in his chest. He was a bit (massively) nerdy when it came to computers. He loved them, very dearly.

So yes, Sherlock buying Jim the latest model of the computers he works with definitely earn the detective a gold star next to his name in Jim's good books. It just about made up for the frowny face Jim had mentally stamped all over his name previously in his bad books.

Sherlock offers a smile back and for a moment Jim is knocked back by how beautiful that real smile is. Jim quickly snaps himself out of those thoughts.

Thankful for computers, acceptable. Thinking Sherlock was beautiful, really not acceptable.

He smiles quickly again before raising his hand in a wave as he heads for the door.

A brief moment of what looked like panic crosses Sherlock's face. It's gone as quick as it came and Jim doesn't get the chance to analyse it. Not that he would look into Sherlock's facial expressions or feelings much, anyway.

With a slight shrug Jim leaves the room, his step gaining a bounce to it as he thinks of all the new programmes and updates waiting for him on the monitors upstairs. He was half tempted to try and take the stairs two at a time...

Just as his hand settles on the banister, he hears a shout from behind him.

"Jim!"

Jim turns, surprised to find Doctor Watson chasing after him in a hurry. Jim raises an eyebrow when the man stops before him (breathing fine, amazingly).

"Yes, Doctor Watson?" Jim asks, suddenly finding it ten times easier to be nice.

Sherlock brought out the worst in him. It was a fact. A proven fact.

"Sherlock needs you" John smiles. "And call me John. Doctor Watson sounds so formal"

Jim nods. "Okay.. John. Um. Sorry, but I'm really not interested in whatever Sherlock has to say--"

John holds his hands up in defence. "He's insufferable at times, I know. But he said to tell you it's about a computer"

Jim perks up immediately and begins his way back towards the lab. "Did he say what the problem was?"

John laughs. "He said you'd do that. He wasn't kidding when he said you loved computers, was he?"

John smiles, genuinely curious, but Jim isn't stupid and he can see the confusion in the doctor's eyes. Confusion about who Jim was to Sherlock. Apparently, Sherlock doesn't just talk about people and John had that older, protective brother aura about him.

Jim didn't know what to make of that fact. The detective liked to annoy him, sure, but talking about him once he'd left the room? Jim didn't see that one coming at all. He hoped Sherlock hadn't said anything to make John too weary. Frankly, Jim could see John being scary if he was angry.

"He certainly wasn't. Computers are my area, without them I'd just be a socially awkward man who lives a lonely life" Jim answers.

And there it was. That look of pity. The one that showed people thought that of him, with or without the computers. Jim didn't understand why it was so unbelievable that he honestly was happy with them as his company and not people.

Computers were his area. People were not.

The silence lingers over them until they enter the lab. Sherlock is sat at a microscope but looks up when they enter.

He nods at John, who moves over to Sherlock's jacket and begins to text someone. Jim raises an eyebrow but Sherlock was now ignoring the doctor and focused completely on Jim.

"I need your assistance" Sherlock murmurs, undoubtfully not used to admitting he needs help.

 _That's kinda cute_ , Jim thinks before mentally shoving those thoughts off a cliff and sending a blazing car after them just to make sure they weren't ever coming back up that cliff.

"With?" Jim asks, eyebrow raising again and tone clearly snappier.

He had no idea how Sherlock managed to squish his calm and kind nature with just his presence. It was beyond irritating. God, people must think that they're a married couple or something with the way they bicker at times.

_No_ _._ _No_ _!_ _No_ _more_ _thoughts_ _of_ _you_ _and_ _Sherlock_ _._ _Shh_ _._

"My laptop's poorly" Sherlock pouts.

Jim's eyes linger on Sherlock's lips a moment longer than necessary before he frowns at Sherlock's whiny, childish tone. When had he become so... playful?

In the corner, John was sending the detective some very odd looks indeed. It seems no one ever knew what went on in Sherlock's head. Jim was sure that Sherlock liked it exactly that way.

_'_ _Alone_ _protects_ _him'_ _Molly_ _had_ _once_ _said_ _. '_ _At_ _least_ _,_ _he_ _thinks_ _it_ _does'_

Jim couldn't really argue that being alone wasn't always lonely. To some people, it was nice. A relief. Familiar. Jim had always been that way. He liked having his space to himself and that was that.

"And what do you want me to do?" Jim asks.

Sherlock stands. "We're off home now, come with us and take a look at it for me"

Jim swears they'e just got here but... A peek into Sherlock Holmes' life and home? Yes, please.

He may get annoyed by the man far too easily but that didn't mean Jim wasn't curious about the remarkable genius that is Sherlock bloody Holmes.

Jim appears to visibly ponder the question before he nods and sighs, hiding his excitement about this adventure. "I guess. Yeah, fine"


	3. Cindy's

Ah, the infamous lunch break at Bart's hospital. Two hours to put your feet up, relax, read a book, have a coffee, go eat at a nice café. It was bliss for the usually lively building. The long, hard hours of work certainly paid off when they got two whole hours to do as they pleased.

And where was Jim?

Sat on his spinny chair, of course, working still on a FedEx spreadsheet as he picked at a pot of pasta like he did most days (some days, the pasta wouldn't get picked at).

Yesterday's adventure into Sherlock's flat had been interesting. The flat itself was exactly as Jim had imagined. Chaos. It was so undeniably Sherlock. Yet Jim loved it.   
What was even more interesting than the flat, however, was why Sherlock had asked Jim round.

The 'poorly' laptop had a virus that Jim knew Sherlock could have wiped himself very, very easily. When Jim had finished Sherlock had given an obviously fake gasp and an exclamation of "Ah, facile!" before he'd tried to pay Jim for the repair. Jim had flat out refused to take more money from the detective. That, of course, turned into one of their arguments that seemed increasingly common of late. In the end, Jim won and left with the same amount of money he'd entered with.

Now, Jim shakes his head at the memory. He clicks the mouse, refocusing on his work. He brings up his emails, eyes scanning the page before he sighs. His uncle seriously needs to hurry up and reply to his damn email. For the sake of his computers and humanity.

Moments later the door squeaks open and Jim spins in his chair to face whoever was here.

There's a shocked, and disappointed, gasp from the woman stood there. "Jim! You need a break" She tutts, entering the room.

Jim's too shocked to see her for a moment that he doesn't know how to response. So much for things being awkward between them.... She just had such a kind soul, too kind for her own good.

"You are coming to lunch with me" She demands, pulling Jim out of the chair and putting all the computers on standby by quickly pressing the button on the corner of each monitor.

"Molly, really, I'm fine. I have my pasta..." The words die as Molly picks up his barely eaten lunch and dumps it into the bin.

"Oops. Now you'll have to come with me." She smiles innocently.

Jim can't help but laugh at the woman. He'd missed her sarcastic comments and gentle nature. She almost forgot about how catty she could be.

"Let me go get my coat"

Within fifteen minutes, maybe not even that, they were sat in a cute little café called Cindy's and it was surprisingly not awkward considering everything.

In Jim's opinion Molly had every right to be upset with him. To shout, rant and get all her feelings out about how crappy it was of him to use her the way he did. That was what Jim had been expecting when Molly announced she'd 'asked' him to lunch for a reason. To his surprise, she'd told him that she didn't care about the whole ordeal because she could tell that even though Jim didn't feel that way towards her she could tell that he cared for her as a friend.

Something told Jim that Molly could really use a friend. So he'd smiled and agreed to come out to lunch with her more often and they'd fell into conversation so easily that anyone would think they'd been friends for years.

It was nice to have someone to talk to, sure, but Jim longed for his computers and the feel of a keyboard beneath his fingertips.

It was approaching an hour into their lunch break when the door chimed to announce there was a new customer. Neither of them paid any attention to it, having seen and heard the door chime many times by now.

They became aware of the newcomer, however, when he dropped into the spare chair at their little table. Jim had turned to ask the person what the hell they were doing but was stunned into silence when he realised it was a smirking Sherlock, clad in his usual coat and scarf.

Molly's eyes grew to the size of saucers and her cheeks turned an unmissable pink. Jim guessed she wasn't used to seeing her crush outside of Bart's.

"H--" She starts, only to be cut off by Sherlock.

"I thought you were gay?" Though it was a question, it sounded far more like an accusation as Sherlock's gaze fixed on Jim.

Jim frowns, silent. Molly speaks up, breaking the tension and answering the question Jim was obviously not going to answer. He seemed content just frowning t Sherlock - and he was.

"He is. This isn't a date"

Jim nods in agreement before he turns back to Molly, picking up the conversation where it left off and easily ignoring Sherlock (a task not easily done, actually. The man could be never persistent)

"So you were talking about Midnight's teddy?"

That distracts Molly from Sherlock and she beams at the mention of her beloved kitten.

"Yeah! He ripped it to shreds. It was beyond saving" She pouts after a small laugh escapes her.

"Dull.." The word rolls off of Sherlock's tongue like a greeting, clearly it was a word he used often.

Jim lifts a hand, as if physically batting the word away. Molly's face falls for a moment before she smirks at Jim's action and launches back into her story, knowing that Jim was listening to her no matter what Sherlock said to try and interrupt.

The conversation flows naturally, the topics changing constantly. Molly tells Jim about her cousins birthday party and how her new top ended up being covered in cake. Jim tells Molly about a site he visits often and how he speaks to people all over the world. She seems really interested so he writes the URL down for her and his username.

Eventually, Sherlock gets tired of being ignored and tries to insert comments into the conversation. Jim winks at Molly and it turns into a game of 'we should ignore Sherlock until he cracks'.

It was by far the best lunch break he'd had in a long time.

They do let Sherlock into the conversation when they all make their way back to Bart's. The detective complains and sulks for a few minutes before launching into a discussion about what he was doing in the lab right now and why he'd come to find Molly as he needed her assistance (in short, he batted his eyelashes to get her to wheel out some dead guy).

Jim hugs Molly goodbye when they get back and nods to Sherlock before disappearing back into his office.

He lets out a long sigh as he sinks into his chair. He sets to work again, that familiar feeling of belonging returning to him as he types away and does all that he needs to do.

When the time comes, he packs everything up and turns everything off before setting off home. On his way out of the building he passes the labs and sees Molly and Sherlock working inside.

He smiles sadly when he sees Molly chatting away and Sherlock openly ignoring her. Without realising, Jim had stopped at the door and was peering in, watching Sherlock work.

He was at the microscope again and was checking files and other such things. Behind him a machine was analysing something and occasionally flashing red. It reminds Jim of the first time he'd met Sherlock and how he had very nearly given Sherlock his number.

Two days after Molly had approached him and straight out asked if he was gay.

The memory causes him to wince. It had been wrong of him but all was forgiven now. Molly was right. He cared for her as a friend and that was clear.

Jim blinks and jumps back when he sees Sherlock looking straight at him. Jim's cheeks heat and glow pink before he quickly rushes away, embarrassed he'd been caught spying on them.

When Jim gets home he barely manages to shower and change before he collapses into bed with a yawn, fatigue taking over his body rapidly.

In moments he's dead to the world.


	4. New Online Friends

When Jim's alarm woke him, he rolls over in the bed with a groan. Ugh, Saturday. How he loathed Saturdays.

Saturdays and Sundays were his days off and his flat had never had that homey feel like his office at Bart's did. He had a computer here, of course. His baby, his beautiful laptop, was closed after better than the actual flat. Still, he loved working with computers. 

To think, he used to love the weekend. After school, he'd go home and spend his time in the office, making his mother worry about how much time he spent on his own, reading books and writing down parts he found interesting to pin to the walls of his bedroom.

Sooner or later, Jim shakes away the nostalgia and drags himself out of bed to go about his day.

By midday Jim had eaten, showered, dressed, gone to the bank, done the weekly shopping and cleaned his already spotless flat (only spotless through lack of use, rather than Jim liking for it to be clean}.

It isn't long at all before Jim has fallen into his desk chair and opened up his laptop. A true smile on his face for the first time that day. He sends a silent apology to the lady at the supermarket for not honestly smiling at her. 

Shaking his head, Jim presses the power button on the laptop, watching the screen as it starts up.

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**Staring Up...**

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Username: Jim_06  
Password: pasS12>woRd00

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_Google Chrome > Favourites > www.TalkTo... _

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Welcome back, Jim_06!

You have three new messages and five friend requests. [Click here to view friend requests]

5/92 contacts online.

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 **SkaterBoy:**  No, man! I swear that his jeans were blue in that vid.

 **SkaterBoy:**  Never mind. Just checked. You were right.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Always am ;)

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 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  Jimmy boy, where are you?

 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  Come online!

 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  Get your arse online.

 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  I miss your flirty little Irish chatbox.

 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  I still don't see a green circle by your name.

 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  Are you working late  _agai_ n?

 **DatAwesomeGuyDon:**  Miss you dude!

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Sorry, Don! Yeah, I was working. How's Carol?

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 **Mols_xx:**  Jim! Accept my friend request!

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Will do!

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\-----

 _SuckIt_  wants to be your friend.   
[Accept] [Decline]

 _Mols_xx_  wants to be your friend.   
[Accept] [Decline]

 _NaughtyGirl69_  wants to be your friend.   
[Accept] [Decline]

 _TheConsultingDetective_  wants to be your friend.   
[Accept] [Decline]

 _JackyJack_  wants to be your friend.   
[Accept] [Decline]

\-----

 **[12:12]**  Jim_06 is now friends with  _Mols_xx_

 **[12:12]**  Jim_06 is now friends with _JackyJack_

 **[12:23]**  Jim_06 is now friends with  _TheConsultingDetective_

\-----

[Conversation started at 12:30]

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  This site is dull, James.

 ** _Jim_06:_  **Why the hell did you sign up then?

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  To annoy you, of course.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Isn't it enough that you annoy me at work? Must you do it on my day off too?

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  You say that as if you enjoy your days off. Which you don't.

 ** _Jim_06:_  **Oh, shut up, smarty pants.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Smarty pants? That's a new one.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Would you prefer I stick to arse?

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I'd prefer you call me Sherlock.

 ** _Jim_06:_  **And I'd prefer you call me Jim.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Dull.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  You could always call me sexy.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  ....

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I wish I could see your face right now.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Ha-bloody-ha.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Why 06?

 _ **Jim_06:**  _Jim_69 was taken.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Very funny.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Wow. You actually understood that reference?

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I'm not an idiot.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  I didn't say you were.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  You were implying I lack knowledge about sex.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  That's not calling you an idiot.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  It had that you're-an-idiot tone.

 _ **Jim_06:**  _Typed words can't have a tone, Sherlock.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  The way we read words has a tone though, James.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Can you not read? It very clearly says my name is Jim.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I prefer James.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  John was right. You're insufferable.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  You love it.

 ** _Jim_06:_  **If you're trying to flirt Sherlock, you are failing miserably AND  have chosen the worse person to flirt with.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Why would I be flirting?

 _ **Jim_06:**_  That's what it seems like to me. Has that tone when I read it.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Perhaps it has that tone because you're hoping I am trying to flirt with you.

 ** _Jim_06:_  **Ha! In your dreams.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  ;)

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Go back to being snarky and condescending. Funny doesn't suit you.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I've been told.

 _ **Jim_06:**  _John?

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  John.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  He's right.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  Mm.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Oh, now you're going all sulky.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I do not sulk.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Yes, you do.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I don't.

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Whatever you say, Sherlock.

 **TheConsultingDetective** : I'm leaving.

 _ **Jim_06:**  _You do that.

 **TheConsultingDetective:**  I mean it.

 _ **Jim_06**_ : See ya.

_[TheConsultingDetective has logged off]_

**Jim_06:**  You're such a child.

\-----

Omegle: Talk to strangers! 

Keep it clean and friendly!

What do you want to talk about?

Start chatting: Text or Video

\-----

**You are now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!**

Stranger: Have you got kick?

You: *kik

You: and no.

Stranger: Autocorrect.

You: I guessed.

Stranger: How's life?

You: I have no complaints.

Stranger: Is it creepy if I ask whereabouts you live?

You: Not at all ;) I live in London. Yourself?

Stranger: Dublin.

You: Awesome! I'm from Dublin.

Stranger: What made you move to London?

You: Work.

Stranger: Ah.

Stranger: How old are you, stranger?

You: 29. Yourself?

Stranger: I'm 19.

You: Cool.

Stranger: Ever heard of Sherlock Holmes?

You: Mm. The hat detective.

Stranger: Sorry, I have a bit of an obsession with him.

You: Many do.

Stranger: Yeah..

Stranger has disconnected.

\-----

Omegle: Talk to strangers! 

Keep it clean and friendly!

What do you want to talk about?

Sherlock Holmes.

Start chatting: Text or Video

\-----

**You are now chatting with a random stranger! Say hi!**   
**You both like Sherlock Holmes.**

Stranger: um, hi.

You: Did you just type um?

Stranger: Oops. Guess I did.

You: So.. Sherlock?

Stranger: Yeah. He's just.. amazing. You know? The way his mind works is fascinating.

You: I'll agree with the last part.

Stranger: ??

You: The guy's a bit of a dick, to be honest.

Stranger: You've met him?!

You: Sadly..

Stranger: Oh my Gosh. Is he gorgeous? 

**You have disconnected.**

\-----

**Omegle couldn't find anyone who shares your interests. Try adding more!**   
**You are now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!**

Stranger: a/s/l

**You have disconnected.**

\-----

**You are now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!**   
**You both like Sherlock Holmes.**

Stranger: Hello, idiot.

You: You're a tad rude.

Stranger: Mm.

You: ...

Stranger: Well, have fun with your ellipses. 

**Stranger has disconnected.**

\-----

[Conversation started at 13:52]

 **Mols_xx:**  Jim, this site is amazing! I've already spoken to an American, a Japanese girl and someone from Jamaica.

 _ **Jim_06:**  _Glad you like it, Mols!

 **Mols_xx** : How's your Saturday going?

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Filled with Sherlock Holmes.

 **Mols_xx:**  You're with Sherlock?

 ** _Jim_06:_**  No. Just today seems to be the day that everyone on the interest is talking about him.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Okay, that's a lie. I talked to a few of his fan and I feel kind of stalkerish now.

 **Mols_xx:**  I didn't realise you liked Sherlock. You guys always seem at each others throats.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  We are.

 **Mols_xx:**  Then why talk to his fans?

 ** _Jim_06:_**  Bored, I guess

 **Mols_xx:**  Hm.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  He joined the site too, you know?

 **Mols_xx:**  Really?

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Yeah. His username is TheConsultingDetective 

 **Mols_xx:**  Original.

 _ **Jim_06:**_  Ha.

 **Mols_xx:**  Do you want to go out for lunch tomorrow?

 ** _Jim_06:_  **Yeah. Sure. 12 at Cindy's?

 **Mols_xx:**  Perfect.

 _ **Jim_06:**  _See you then!

 **Mols_xx:**  Yup.

_[Mols_xx has logged off]_

\-----

_Sign In. Hotmail._

**Inbox (5)**

Elizabeth Moriarty  
Honey, when will you be visiting? I haven't...

Don Davids  
Duudeeeeee, where are you? It's been like a....

Sebastian Moran   
RE: When are you in London, Sebby?

Facebook  
There are 2 peoples with birthdays this wee...

Owen Moriarty   
RE: You know you love me, Uncle Owen?!?!

\-----

From:  _OwenMoriartyShooting@hotmail.co.uk_

I was ready to type out 'do not email me on my work account, Jim' again when I read the message to find it was actually about work. Sort of.

Now, Jim, you know I love you but closing down the whole range just for you?

You're damn lucky that I'm the boss and business has been booming. I've got some things I need to do up at your great Aunt's house so I suppose I may as well let you use the range since I'm shutting for the day anyway.

Only one rule: No sex in my shooting range.

–––Original Message–––

From: JimIT@hotmail.co.uk

Hey, Uncle Owen!

Will you be able to shut the range for a day? There this guy at work that keeps...

\-----

**Logging Out...**

\-----

**Shutting Down...**

\-----


	5. Sher-cock

  
"Sherlock!" Jim beams,showing teeth and all, as said detective walks into his office on Monday morning.

Sherlock frowns, obviously wondering if Jim had suddenly taken a tub of happy pills to make him actually be friendly and act like he wanted to see Sherlock. The bemused look on Sherlock's face just makes Jim giggle. He looked like a confused puppy trying to determine if it's owner was testing them.

"I've been waiting for you" Jim announces when the man continues to hover in the doorway and say nothing. His large smile stays in place the whole and if Sherlock face was anything to go by, he was getting creeped out by Jim's friendliness. 

"Um..." Sherlock trails off, still confused despite his effort to regain his composure. He holds up a plastic Starbuck's cup. "I brought you coffee"

Jim blinks, taken aback by the friendly gesture for a few moments. He guesses that's how Sherlock felt right now too. Then, with another cute little smile, Jim takes the cup.

"Thank you" He says, taking a sip.

A very familiar taste hits Jim. Vanilla Coffee. Jim can't help his surprise - his eyebrows shoot up, wondering how the hell Sherlock knew what kind of coffee he liked to drink. Jim finds himself looking down at the cup in wonder, as if it held all the answers. 

"Ho-" He pauses before nodding and answering his own question. "Cindy's"

Sherlock nods as well before leaning against Jim's desk next to the man himself. "Yep... So. Why were you waiting for me?" He asks, straight to the point as per usual. 

Jim is suddenly grinning again.

"I've arranged with my uncle for us to go to his shooting range for the day. He's closing for the day on Saturday and he's said we can go in there for as long as we like" He pauses for a second. "I thought it'd save my computers  _and_ you'd still get to shoot at things"

His explanation skills sucked, it was official.

After he has explained, Jim sips his drink and allows all that information to sink in. He feels as though he spoke in a rush but maybe that's just because he's excited. 

Sherlock blinks at him, his face almost void of emotion minus hints of shock.

Was it really that hard to believe that Jim could be nice to him and would willing spend time with him? Not forgetting he was doing it for his computers. That was his main reason. So Sherlock's confusion and shock certainly confused Jim.

He says nothing, allowing Sherlock to collect himself while he just continues to sip on his coffee.

"I.. Er.. Are you.." Sherlock clears his throat, averting his eyes. "Are you asking me on a date?"

It's odd. Jim almost thought he sounded hopeful.

Wait. What? 

The sitting man's smile drops immediately as those words register fully in his head, the trace of hope he believed he heard in Sherlock's tone forgotten as he focuses on the words.

Sherlock thought he was asking him on a  _date_! Oh, Jesus. What the hell?

"Oh my God!" was the first thing out of Jim's mouth as he began to shake his head. "No. God, no! It's- My computers! God.. Jesus, no. Ew"

Okay, maybe the 'ew' comment had been a bit far but Jim wanted to make it very,  _very_  clear that he was not, in any bloody universe, asking Sherlock bloody Holmes out on a bloody date to his uncle's bloody shooting range.

_Bloody hell..._

Jim wasn't sure what he hated more. The fact that Sherlock thought he was asking him out or the fact that Sherlock's current smile seemed just a tinsy bit disappointed. 

Jim's heart suddenly went into overload, beating rapidly, as his eyes widen. Did he say the wrong thing? Sherlock's didn't want it to be a date, right? ...No. Sherlock doesn't date. He doesn't do anything like that. There was no way that Sherlock wanted a date with that quiet awkward man from IT.

Besides, Jim doesn't  _want_  to ask him on a date!

"Thank God!" Sherlock laughs, body relaxing considerably.

Jim relaxes too, glad he hasn't upset Sherlock or hurt his feelings with his over the top version of 'no'.

Jim smiles softly. "So, Saturday?"

Sherlock nods "Sounds good, James"

Automatically, Jim grits his teeth. "My name is Jim"

Sherlock's eyes light up, recognising this version of Jim easily. He just laughs, ruffles Jim's hair (earning a huff from him) before he leaves.

Rolling his eyes at the way Sherlock hadn't even said goodbye (Rude!), Jim turns back to the computer. He sips at the coffee Sherlock brought him again, his eyes catching the writing on the side of the cup for the first time.

_'_ _James_ _. -From_ _Sherlock_ _x'_

Jim would have been busy pondering the kiss Sherlock had obviously made the cashier write on to the cup but he was too busy laughing once he's eyes ran over the messy, black scrawl.

Molly walks in to find Jim doubled over laughing, coughing a little too since his coffee went down the wrong hole. For a moment, she pauses and stares. Jim looked crazy... 

"Jim...?" She asks, torn between smiling and looking worried.

Jim holds the cup out, still laughing, and shows her the writing. She comes closer and reads it, a small frown on her face that is instantly wiped off and replaced with a smile when she does finally read it.

"Oh my God! He left a kiss!" Molly practically squeals.

Jim shakes his head, still not caring about that. "Look at the L"

Molly leans close, scanning the cup again. "What? It looks a bit like a C--" She stops and frowns at the giggling man. "Really, Jim?"

Jim just laughs harder. Molly rolls her eyes.  _What a child._

"I am so calling him Sher-cock from now on" Jim speaks, more to himself than Molly as he turns back to the computer.

Molly grabs a chair and sits beside him, smiling sweetly. Jim frowns and raises an eyebrow, isn't she meant to be in the morgue poking a dead body or something? Maybe even helping Sherlock, seeing as he was clearly here.

Jim hums. "Er.. Mols? Not to be mean but shouldn't you be kinda of, you know, working?"

She shakes her head and points to the clock on the wall. Jim looks up and sure enough, the little hands on the clock show him that it's lunch time. He hadn't even noticed the time passing. He sips at his coffee, almost bursting into a fit of giggles again before he frowns, doing his best to be serious for a moment.

"That's weird... I swear it was like ten o'clock two minutes ago..."

Molly shakes her head again and stands. "Come on"

"What?" Jim asks, blinking at her innocently.

"Don't you look at me like that, Jim. You may as well have a hand in the cookie jar"

Jim sits straight, grinning, still in a ridiculously good mood. "You have cookies?"

"Mm. I'm on the dark side. Now grab your coat and let's go have some lunch"

Before Jim knows what's happening, he's being shoved out of Bart's doors and into a booth at Cindy's. It's almost scary how bossy and demanding Molly can get. Jim feels for her future husband... or wife, Jim adds as an after thought.

She's certainly not all smiles and rainbows. No messing around with her. Jim makes a mental note to be the cool uncle type saving Molly's kids from her rein of terror. 

Jim had barely took a bite out of his pizza slice (yes, he ordered pizza for lunch. Screw the pasta diet) when Molly brought up the kiss on the coffee Sherlock had brought for him. He'd almost forgotten about that, not actually caring about the kiss. The writing was more interesting.

Sher-cock, Jim thought with a smirk.

Jim then groans and told her exactly what happened, glaring at her each time her smile widened just a little. 

By the time they were wondering back to the hospital, Molly was thinking of names for their children. Jim just went with it, joking and laughing along with her as she planned out their whole life together starting from the not-a-date on Saturday.

He wasn't really sure why he so happily went along with it. After all, Sherlock annoyed the hell out of him. Sometimes to the point Jim wanted to strangle him or throw him off building.

When Jim returned to work, ever cheerful, he checked his emails and rolled his eyes as he remembers his uncle's 'rule'. It wasn't even a date, never mind whatever was going through dear Uncle Owen's mind.

A girly squeal, which he will never admit to, escapes Jim as he reads Sebastian's reply. He logged out after reading Uncle Owen's and never got round to checking Sebastian's.

A quick scan to confirm that yes, his childhood best friend (and first boyfriend) was coming to visit him on Sunday of this week and Jim starts to reply, using far too many exclamation marks for even his own taste.

By the end of Monday, Jim was all but bouncing off the walls in his excitement.

Never had he wanted work week to end so badly.


	6. Not A Date

Typically, the next week passed at a snail's pace. The little square on his calendar marked Sat was taunting him, as was the clock that seemed to run slower with each passing minute. It reminded Jim of being in school again. 

A shiver runs through him at that thought. Ugh. School was a horrible place and all those people that said he'd miss it when he left couldn't be further from right if they tried. 

It's Friday now and Jim is sat in his desk chair, watching the clock tick exceedingly slowly towards six p.m., which was when his shift ended. 

Sebastian had emailed Jim throughout the week and he'd planned to stay for a few days into the next week, only making Jim more energetic and excitable as the week went on. He'd even been all smiley and happy around Sherlock, confusing the detective to a point Jim almost thought it was cute. 

Molly, naturally, had squeezed him for every single bit of information about Sebastian. She wasn't going to ever let him live down the way he slipped up and called him 'Sebby' in front of her. 

Six o'clock eventually rolls round and Jim bounces up, smiling like an idiot. Sebastian would be here in just over a day. Plus, tomorrow he got to shoot at things and argue with Sherlock. 

It was weird. Jim actually found, when he thought about it, that he really really enjoyed arguing with Sherlock about anything and everything. On Wednesday he even found himself smiling when he heard Sherlock call him James. 

Usually he complained when anyone called him James, even his own mother got snapped at if she called him James. His full name only passed his mother's lips if he was being a right pain in the arse, though. 

In what seemed like a bat of his eyelashes, Jim is pushing his key into the lock to his flat. 

Now. To choose his outfit for tomorrow. 

Not that it's a date, he adds mentally before pulling out his wardrobe and scanning the clothes there. 

On one side he had all his suits, including his favourite from the lovely Vivienne Westwood, and on the other he had more casual clothes. His countless pair of shoes lined the bottom of the wardrobe and he probably had around twenty beanies on a shelf above his clothes. 

This was going to be a tough choice. 

Saturday comes faster than Jim expected and before he knows it he finds himself outside his Uncle's shooting range, clad in a pair of denim shorts that reached his knee (it was a warm day, for England) and a light blue check cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He'd gone with the casual look. Simple. 

He'd added a dark blue beanie too, just because he liked wearing them. He'd have to take it off to shoot but oh well. 

Clothes were a bit of a guilty pleasure for Jim. One day, like today, he'd look a little on the hipster side despite being twenty nine. Then other days he'd looked like a snob in his Westwood suits. He loved his ties too. 

Jim was pulled out of his fantasies about his own clothes by a taxi pulling up. Sherlock climbs out, dressed in his usual fitted suit and expensive top. Jim bet even his underwear was ridiculously expensive. 

Not that he ever planned to find out. 

Sherlock approaches him with a smile. "James." 

Jim rolls his eyes and nods back, a smile tugging at his lips. "Sherlock." 

Jim turns and heads for the door, hiding his smile. Within minutes Jim has the door to the actual range open. 

After some searching they find the storage room with the guns. Jim stops dead in front of the door, his whole face flushing red as he reads the charming note left by his Uncle. 

Sherlock laughs and nudges Jim with a teasing smirk "I thought this wasn't a date?"  

"It isn't," Jim grumbles as he tears the note down. 

He reads it over once more before screwing it up and throwing it over his shoulder, not caring about making a mess. 

'Remember my rule, Jim. NO SEX' 

Sherlock follows Jim inside the small storage room. It really wasn't made for two people to be inside, as Jim discovered when he turned to hand Sherlock ear muffs and ended up being pressed chest to chest with the lanky detective. 

His face glows again as he steps back and shoves the ear muffs into the other man's hand. 

Jim hears Sherlock walk away, laughing again. With a huff, Jim balls his hands into fists and reminds himself that if he slaps Sherlock it's possible that his computers will pay for it. 

But dear God, he wanted to slap that man. 

"James!" Sherlock calls suddenly "Are y--" 

"For fuck's sake, Sherlock! My name is Jim!" Jim shouts back, cutting the other off. 

Much to his annoyance, he hears Sherlock laughing again. 

Don't slap him. Don't slap him. Don't slap him. 

Jim chants the phase a few times over, reminding himself every time that he just got pretty, new monitors that he'd wanted for a very long time. Jim was so busy trying to calm himself down, he completely missed it when Sherlock repeated the question. 

Sherlock appears in the doorway, smirking. 

"Just going to stand there all day or are we actually going to shoot? It is the reason we're here, after all" 

Jim almost, almost, lifted his hand and slapped that stupid (still oddly beautiful) face. 

With another huff, Jim picks up the guns and pushes past Sherlock, probably with more force than needed. He was pleased to see Sherlock rubbing his shoulder when he glanced back. 

"I'm starting to worry you brought me here to shoot me..." Sherlock trails off as they enter the range. 

"It's tempting," Jim replies with a smirk. 

They ended up taking lane - Jim had no clue what to call these little alcoves - three and four. Sherlock had his ear muffs on and the gun aimed perfectly before Jim could blink. 

Jim slips on his own ear muffs and tries desperately to remember what his uncle had told him about guns. Aim and shoot. Easy enough, right? 

Jim looks at the gun and fumbles for a moment, trying to hold it properly. It felt all wrong under his fingertips. Without meaning to, Jim's eyes flashes towards the office where he knew his uncle had a computer. 

Keyboard over a gun any day. 

Warm, large, hands slide over Jim's own, causing him to flinch backwards. His back hits Sherlock's chest and he looks up, over his right shoulder, to see Sherlock smiling softly at him. 

Their eyes met for just a second before Sherlock's flash forward and he repositions Jim's hands on the gun. 

Jim watches what he does and nods when he feels confident he's holding it right. Although, he could feel Sherlock's warm chest pressed to his back and it was more than distracting - especially the way Sherlock's heart seemed to be hammering into Jim's shoulder blade. 

Sherlock's large hands linger a moment before he squeezes Jim's smaller hands and backs away, picking up his own gun and shooting at his own targets, eyes forward. Jim watches him for a moment, scalding himself when he found himself describing Sherlock with a gun as sexy. 

Jim looks forward when he felt his staring was starting to border on the creepy side. It wouldn't do any good for Sherlock to think that Jim liked him that way. Because he didn't. 

At least, he didn't think he did. 

He aims and shoots, silencing his thoughts. 

He doesn't like Sherlock. His feelings for the man stood beside him drift more into the bracket of loathing. He was good looking, of course, even Jim could admit that but his personality sucked worse than Jim's explanation skills. 

And they really sucked. How does a way of saving the machine you love get misinterpreted for a date, for Christ's sake? 

Another shot from Jim. 

A date, with Sherlock Holmes. Bloody stupid idea. Jim wouldn't be surprised if after the four hours they'd planned to spend here Sherlock had come up with a few ways to murder Jim and visa versa. 

Another shot. 

They pause ten minutes later and Sherlock shows Jim how to reload, his warm hands guiding Jim's all the while. 

Jim had almost snapped and asked if it was necessary for him to stand so close. Although for some reason beyond Jim, he'd bitten his lips instead and let the other man guide him. 

They shot in silence for two hours, both lost in their thoughts and comfortable with silence. 

Then Sherlock taps Jim's shoulder as he's reloading. Automatically, Jim slips his ear muffs off and raises an eyebrow. Sherlock already had his ear muffs off. 

"I saw a small counter with drinks signs on the ways in," Sherlock says. 

"You thirsty?" Jim asks, already walking towards the door. 

Sherlock just grunts as a reply, following Jim. 

Jim stops by the door and gives Sherlock an odd look. 

"What?" Sherlock almost snaps, tone defensive. 

"Why'd you grunt?" 

"What?" Sherlock repeat, frowning now. 

"Why did you grunt like that? That wasn't a I-dislike-talking grunt that was more a... disheartened grunt." Jim waves his hand around, shocked by his suddenly improved explanation skills. 

Sherlock blinks, clearly shocked. 

He seemed surprised that Jim had read him so well. That makes Jim smirk. So the great Sherlock Holmes liked to be mysterious. 

Jim tilts his head to the side, wondering how much fun he could have with reading the unreadable man before him. 

Jim wasn't a great observer like Sherlock but he knew a thing or two about people like Sherlock. Excluding the obvious, Jim doesn't think they were all that different. 

"I..." Sherlock pauses, frowning even more as if he hadn't told his mouth to speak. 

"You...?" Jim questions. 

Sherlock shrugs and goes to open the door. Without hesitation, Jim brings his hand down on the door and, using the element of surprise to his advantage, shoves Sherlock away from the door, pressing himself against it to block the entrance. 

"Nope. Not running away. I want to know. You..?" 

Sherlock watches Jim's face closely and Jim can feel him calculating, debating. 

In the end, Sherlock let's out a sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "I dislike giving into my bodies demands. Hunger and thirst, for example. I am a man who prizes himself on his mental capability" Jim snorts at that, earning a glare. "So every time my body needs something, I feel like it's failing me" 

It was Jim's turn to frown. 

"That..." He pauses, considering his words. "I'm sorry but that's stupid. Fair enough being proud of your mind but seriously? You need to look after your body or your mind will collapse along with your body." 

Sherlock looked like he'd been slapped. Jim decided that was good enough, for the time being, in terms of slapping the man before him. 

The detective then pulls on his emotionless mask, one that seemed to be slipping of late. "You don't know what it's like. The rest is just transport, all the matters is the mind." 

Jim scoffs. "Bullshit, Sherlock. I may not know what it's like to have a million trains of thought or whatever the hell goes on in your big brain but I do know this. You are a bloody drama queen that's, frankly, scared of the real world. You stay tucked away in your puzzles and stick to yourself. Tell me, did you get your heart broken and that's when you started the charade of being heartless or did it just happen?" 

Okay. Jim hadn't planned to go quite that far. It was all out now, though. 

Sherlock's face falls and his lower lips twitch. Jim's own expression softens and he wants to take it all back. 

But he can't. He's already said it. 

"Sherlock, I'm -" 

"Right" Sherlock cuts him off quickly. "You're right." 

Jim doesn't know what to say, so he settles with "I know." 

Sherlock stares at him, his eyes glossed over his unshed tears. Jim had a feeling most of Sherlock tears where like that: unshed. 

"But how..?" 

"How do I know you're an overgrown child who can't handle his feelings?" Jim jokes. 

Briefly, Sherlock cracks a smile. "Yeah, that." 

"The overgrown child bit's obvious. Not offence," Jim smirks, happy to revert back into their jokey ways. 

Sherlock laughs "None taken." 

"As for the other bit.. It was a guess, at first. But the more I watched, well not watched but saw, you... The more I saw myself, a few years back. Hiding from the world. I still do, in fact. Physically. But you've done it emotionally, haven't you?" 

Sherlock doesn't say anything, his eyes darting down to the door handle Jim had stepped away from. 

He wanted to run away, that was clear. 

Jim sighs and tries to smile. "Let's just get that drink, yeah?" 

Sherlock nods, grateful for the change of topic. As they walk out, Jim frowns. 

Once he started talking, things he hasn't even consciously acknowledged came tumbling out.  Who knew what he might say to Sherlock, if not himself? 

That was a bloody scary thought.  


	7. Unwanted Tag-Alongs

Jim was stepping off the very last stair on his way down to the train station when she approached him.

Her hair was done up nicely in a professional bun and her black dress and heels screamed power and sex to Jim, as did her ruby red lips.

He didn't have a single clue who she was but she had just strolled up to him and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Jim steps away immediately, eyes wide.

Then he hears it. That oh so familiar laugh. Jim's whole body pivots left and he crosses his arms, frowning at Sebastian as he doubled over in laughter and pointed at Jim, obviously amused by his facial expression.

Jim fights back a smile before he glances at the woman, rubbing his face with his sleeve as he does to rid himself of any lipstick that may be on his face.

"So, is this a.. friend, Seb?"

Sebastian had a different lady, or something even gentleman, on his arms every time Jim saw him. He didn't often bring them along to their weekends but he did if they were new. Gotta show them he means it, he'd say. Not that he ever did mean it.

That was just the way he was. Never truly settling down. Jim had been far from surprised when their fling came to a short, rather abrupt end. It didn't matter though, theirs wasn't an emotional relationship. Far from it.

"Oh, honey." The woman drawls, winking. "I'm everyone's friend"

Power? Check. Sex? Check.

Jim winkles his nose. "Lovely."

She blinks at him, as if shocked that he'd so easily turned away from her. Used to having people drool, not doubt.

"Either you're gay or you're another Sherlock..."

That does get Jim's interest. "You've met Sherlock?"

An arm links with Jim's and he stares at it for a moment, unsure of this woman's motives. He looks to Sebastian for help.

He lifts his hands up in defence.

Power. Double check.

Apparently this woman, whose name Jim still didn't know, was coming back to his flat too and going by her suitcase, she was staying for the few days Jim was suppose to be spending with his best friend.

Pissed was an understatement of how Jim was currently feeling as he slams the cups down onto the counter beside the kettle.

The woman was off in the bathroom, doing something - not that Jim cared - while Sebastian was standing close to Jim looking guilty as sin and twiddling his thumbs. Rare was it for him to see Jim angry, even rarer was it for Jim to be angry with him.

"Jim, I didn't think--"

"Save it, Seb." Jim snaps before sighing. He turns and gives his friend a smile.

Sebastian seemed more than a little shocked by Jim's anger. Jim blames it on Sherlock. That man was slowly turning him into an easily angry person. Something had to be done about that, Jim decides somewhere in the back of his head.

"Look," Jim says, running a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I've been looking forward to this and I didn't expect to have.. Okay, seriously, what's her name?" Jim laughs with the last question.

Sebastian smiles, relaxing as he recognises this gentler, jokey side of Jim.

"Irene Alder. I met her on the train and she agreed to help me trick you. She was going to go but you mentioned that Simon guy. She came down here to see him, apparently."

"Sherlock," Jim corrects before nodding.

He felt a bit bad for assuming Sebastian had brought her along and gives him a quick hug to make up for it. He didn't know that Irene was going to be here so it was wrong to take it out on him. Sebastian seemed to get the message as he smiles and even presses a friendly kiss on Jim's cheek.

It was a bit odd, Jim thought. He had a stranger in his flat. Neither of them knew her, save her name. Then on top of that her whole aura really did scream sex and power. It made Jim shiver.

Irene appears as they separate from their hugging session, helping herself to tea, sugar, milk and even a bloody biscuit from Jim's rather adorable kitten biscuit tin. His mother got him that tin and he can't help but grin at the cute cat face.

Jim turns to start on his and Sebastian's tea, not needing to ask how his friend took it or if he wanted tea. He already knew.

"So, you're a friend of Sherlock's?" Jim asks the woman, raising an eyebrow.

"I told you, I'm everyone's friend," She winks at him.

He pushes down a gag. He hadn't been so thoroughly hit on by a woman in a long time. Plus the idea of her and Sherlock being that close just flipped a switch inside Jim that instantly made him dislike the woman currently stood inside his kitchen, stirring tea like she's lived here for years.

"You and Sherlock..." Jim trails off, not sure whether to be shocked or feel ill.

He'd always assumed that Sherlock never really bothered with anyone in that way. Especially not if his isolation of emotions did start when he was young as Jim expected.

Irene sighs. "I wish."

Of course, she bloody did.

Jim snorts. "You don't seem like his type."

Jim hands Sebastian his tea before looking to the woman for her reaction. Sebastian barely contains his giggle as he rests against the counter, arm pressed close to Jim's.

Irene bristles at that comment.

"And what's that suppose to mean?"

Jim makes a point of rolling his eyes at her. It was probably mean of him but he didn't like Irene all that much, for some reason, that just activated his 'bitch mode' as Sebastian liked to call it.

"It means that I don't think you're his type," Jim replies with a smirk before sipping his tea.

"Oh, and you would know would you?" Irene crosses her arms, becoming extremely defensive.

Jim was almost tempted to sigh 'I wish' like she had earlier but he didn't even wanted to think about the things he'd have to consciously acknowledge if he did say that aloud.

"Maybe," Jim shrugs, remaining nonchalant - much to Irene's annoyance.

Irene visibly falters. "And what is that suppose to mean?"

Jim shakes his head, smirking and loving this more than he should. After all, she did seem to rather like Sherlock. Jim didn't blame her. Looks wise at least.

Sherlock's personality still sucked.

"Nothing, Princess. Nothing at all," He replies.

Irene huffs and before he knows it she's grabbed her suitcase and stormed out of his flat, and hopefully his life too, slamming the door behind her as she does.

His only regret was not finding out why she'd travelled down here to see Sherlock when she could probably text him. His number was on his website, after all. Going by the short conversations they did have, Jim assumes that Irene had met Sherlock before.

Maybe she was a client. Or she had a case for Sherlock.

Secretly, Jim hoped it was a case that had Sherlock coming to Bart's.

With a shrug, Jim flops down on his sofa. Sebastian quickly follows.

"Still a sassy bitch, then?"

"Yup" Jim replies, popping the 'p'.


	8. Full House

They were playing Scrabble when there was a knock on the door.

Jim and Sebastian exchanged a look, both knowing that no one was expected to drop by anytime soon. Jim rarely had visitors, even Sebastian knew that.

A glance at the clock sends Jim's eyebrows towards his hairline. It was nearly midnight.

Who the hell was at the door at this time?

With a sigh, Jim raises to his feet. Sebastian's left eyebrow goes up, mingling with his hair almost, he knew his friend well by now. Jim nods and his Sebastian stands too, following him towards the door.

It was silly but Jim's heart was suddenly beating rapidly as thought of who may be on the other side of the door filled his mind.

Killers. Thieves. Female strippers. All scary things like that.

Had his life been a movie this would be the moment where the tense music began to play in the background, taunting them all.

Jim prayed this movie was just packed, like really really packed, with red herrings.

Sebastian squeezes Jim's arm before he gives Jim a push forward, urging him to open the door. Jim glares, knowing that Sebastian was also scaring himself with terrifying thoughts just like he was. Well, Sebastian might not be thinking that female strippers are scary but the first two on his list were probably floating around in the other man's head.

Jim's left hand settles on the doorknob as he gives himself a mental prep talk. He yanks the door open quickly, not giving himself a chance to chicken out of opening a damn door.

Both men breath a sigh of relief upon seeing who was standing there in front of them. Female, yes. Stripper, no. Well.. Maybe, Jim thinks.

It was a fact that they tend to overreact to everything, especially since they'd been up watching horror movies and had to play scrabble so they weren't scared shitless before sleeping.

Jim glances at Sebastian the same time Sebastian glances at him and they laugh quietly before turning their attention back to their visitor.

Irene was stood there, looking bored and as if she was waiting for something as she picked at her nails.

Jim opens his mouth to ask why the hell she was here at this bloody time when there was a familiar baritone from half way down the corridor.

"Irene! We're meant to stick together!" The owner of the voice appears then, glaring at the woman. "Or do you wish to be killed?"

A smirk spreads over Irene's ruby painted lips as she raises a hand to Sherlock's cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone gently, like a lover would.

A wave of anger crashed through Jim like a raging storm but it was gone (pushed away) as soon as it came, his emotions settling back into a calm blissful tide.

"You'd always come to save me," Irene flirts.

"That's what you think," Sherlock replies with a huff, shoving her hand away from his face.

And for some reason that made Jim happy, and proud too. The bubble of emotion rises in his chest and wraps around his heart, giving it a squeeze before it's gone at the same speed as the wave had.

Jim was bloody glad that Sherlock was not friendly with this women, like she'd suggested. A smirk works it's way onto Jim's lips as Irene's flirty smile drops faster than a stone dropped down a well.

"Wait.." Sherlock speaks again, his eyes meeting Jim's for the briefest of moments before he focuses on Irene again. "Why were you at James' flat?"

The hostility was clear as day. Sherlock even sounded kind of possessive of Jim, like no one else, much less this woman, was allowed to interact with him without Sherlock knowing beforehand and giving his permission.

Jim found he didn't really have an issue with that.

"Jim," Jim corrects, speaking to cut off his thoughts but, as he expected, he's ignored by both the woman and the man at his door.

"Because he," Irene points at Jim "mentioned you." She points a manicured finger at Sherlock then.

"He is here," Jim huffs, gesturing to himself from head to toe.

He wasn't sure if he was imagining things or not but Jim could've sworn that Sherlock's eyes followed his hand down his body and back up again.

Maybe, Jim muses to himself, just maybe he didn't get it wrong when he thought that Sherlock had looked a tad on the disappointed side when Jim had so thoroughly dubbed their day out as not a date.

"So, Sher-cock," Jim chuckles. "Why are you here?"

Sherlock bristles a little at the nickname, having taken an immediate dislike to it when Jim brought it up at the shooting range. When they'd gotten drinks, Sherlock got coffee and Jim had been instantly reminded of the poor penmanship on his Vanilla Coffee.

Sherlock straightens then, brushing off the nickname and becoming serious. Well, Jim thinks, there's only one thing that could make Sherlock look that serious.

"Case," Sherlock says, confirming Jim's thoughts.

After Jim mentally awards himself a gold star, he raises an eyebrow. So Irene's case was bringing Sherlock to his flat, not his office. Jim found, shockingly, that he didn't have all that many complaints.

Yes, Sher-cock, come into my flat. Didn't sound much like Jim, did it?

"Bit more info would be nice, Sher-cock," Jim fought back a giggle at the nickname and rolls his eyes instead, masking the tiny smile on his lips.

"Irene has rather stupidly misplaced information that I need. It's stored on an memory stick, a green one. We've been retracing her steps to when she last had the memory stick. This is our last stop before we start looking for a thief." By the end of his explanation, Sherlock had pushed his way into the flat and was looking all over the flat's living room.

Jim felt a blush threatening to rise as Sherlock's eyes filtered over the stack of take away food by his sofa. He managed to stop his cheeks colouring, thankfully, and focuses on complaining about Sherlock's intrusion.

"I have work in the morning!"

Sherlock pauses, giving Jim a 'really?' look before he shoots a glance towards Sebastian, who was leaning against the wall taking in the scene with an amused smile.

"You weren't sleeping," Sherlock informs Jim, his tone suggesting the information wasn't even note worthy.

Irene looks to Sebastian, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Jim's eyes widen, registering how that would have sounded to the woman.

"It's not like that!" Jim says quickly, his face twisted in annoyance.

His friend, who was still just lounging against his wall, chuckles and winks at Jim.

"Anyway," Sherlock cuts in sharply. "Have you seen a green memory stick?"

Jim shakes his head. "I haven't" Had he not been talking to the most annoying person he knows, there would have been a 'sorry' tagged onto the end of that sentence.

"Can we look around?' Sherlock asks, despite already having pushed his way into the flat and begun his search.

"Like I have a choice," Jim rolls his eyes again before gesturing around to confirm that they could indeed look around.

As long as they didn't touch his computer, he really didn't care.

Two minutes later and Sherlock has demolished half of Jim's living room. With a small sigh, Jim picks up his laptop and moves into the kitchen. He opens up his laptop, loading it, before he turns to switch the kettle on.

"Jiiiiim," Sebastian whines, walking into the kitchen and gesturing to the laptop.

They'd agreed. No computers of any kind while Sebastian was here. Jim wasn't even allowed to use his phone unless he honestly needed to.

With a sheepish smile, Jim closes his laptop. He focuses completely on the kettle then. When it gives a shrill cry, he takes hold of the handle and begins to make tea.

"Shouldn't you be wearing your glasses?"

Jim huffs at the mention of his glasses before tapping beside his eyes. "Contacts."

Jim and Sebastian were leaning against the kitchen side, sipping tea and giggling about this and that when Sherlock walks in, face deadpan.

"You only have one bedroom," Sherlock says, rather snippy.

"I'm aware," Jim replies.

Sherlock glances at Sebastian, anger flashing through his eyes at the speed of light and somehow Jim caught it.

Was it possible that the great Sherlock Holmes was jealous?

"Oh, right," Sherlock nods, looking to Jim's friend. "Well. The sofa looks comfortable."

Jim snorts because his sofa really doesn't look comfortable and it really isn't comfortable. He needs a new one, really. Jim ignores Sherlock, turning back to the counter, adding a sugar to his tea and letting Sebastian correct Sherlock.

"I'm not sleeping on the sofa," Sebastian replies with a shrug.

Sherlock scowls. "Jim's gay."

What was with this guy constantly bringing up Jim's sexuality?

With a chuckle, Sebastian wraps an arm around Jim's waist as the man turns back to face Sherlock. "Oh, I'm well aware."

Jim didn't have much control over the way a crimson blush spread over his cheeks at the speed of light, he could feel the heat coming off his face and was scared to think just how red his face looked.

He didn't exactly resist the arm around his waist, comfortable with Sebastian holding him.

Sherlock looks between them, resembling a cartoon character watching a tennis match, before he huffs, turns and leaves the room as suddenly as he had appeared.

Sebastian chuckles, letting go of Jim. "That man likes you, rather a lot I'd say."

Jim just hums, not so sure.

Not that he wanted Sherlock to like him. Obviously.


	9. Sherlock Holmes Needs Help?!

"I need your help."

Jim yawns, blinking at the man stood before him, blocking the way into the office. He was so tired. It had been very tempting to call in sick and stayed curled up against the warmth of his best friend.

"Good morning to you too," Jim quips, pushing past Sherlock to enter his office.

It was far too early to deal with Sherlock Holmes. Far far too early. Jim was too tried. 'Too tired. Need caffeine.' Jim's subconscious tells him and before he can make the decision to, his body is carrying him back past Sherlock and down the stairs towards the staff kitchen.

Coffee. Need coffee.

"James. I need your help."

"Coffee, first. Sherlock, later." Jim yawns again, wondering why Sherlock couldn't go bother someone else for a few hours.

Sherlock follows him all the way to the staff kitchen, watching him make coffee. Jim sighs, knowing the persistent man wasn't going to get off his back until he at least heard whatever he had to say.

He did thank Sherlock for being patient though. He doesn't ask again until Jim has drunk half of his coffee and is back in the comfort of his chair in his office.

Jim had managed to successful ignore the way Sherlock had become his shadow and when half his coffee is gone and he feels he can tolerate the annoying detective he spins around in the chair and gestures for Sherlock to speak.

"I need your help," He repeats, earning an eye roll from Jim.

"I got that much myself, thanks," He replies, tone dripping with sarcasm. He sips at his coffee, which needed more sugar, before speaking again. "Explain then, or I'm not helping."

"And you will if I explain?"

"Maybe."

"Alright," Sherlock nods. His eyes lock onto Jim's then, rooting Jim to his place. "I need your help hacking a drug dealers computer. I've tried. I can't do it."

"Your brother is the Government," Jim points out.

Sherlock sighs through his nose, visible irritated. "Mycroft won't help me. Says it's too petty for all the legwork he'd have to do."

Jim thinks about it for a moment.

"I'm not saying I'll help but what would I be looking for?"

"Contact details. Something that can be traced. He have the name of the drug dealer but if I'm to eliminate the whole organisation I need to trace it back to the ring leader. This organisation has come up in nearly five cases now, it's getting tiresome."

Jim did sympathise with that. Sherlock certainly wasn't a man tolerant of repetition, especially on his own behalf. It must be maddening for him.

"Is this the same information Irene misplaced?" Jim asks, more curious.

"Yes. The stupid woman..." Sherlock trails off, glaring at the floor as if it were the cause of all this issues.

Jim had heard Sherlock could get very serious about the work and had experienced the more serious side of Sherlock a few times but this seemed different. He seemed more angry now.

Then it hit Jim. He was ashamed.

Ashamed that he needed help from someone and that his skills weren't enough. He was angry that he needed someone.

Jim couldn't stop himself from laughing if someone offered a million pounds.

Sherlock's glare is redirected onto Jim, just making him laugh even more. Because it really was laughable. Sherlock was getting all pouty over the fact he needed a bit of help.

The more Jim laughed, the closer Sherlock looked to snapping and obviously the more annoyed Sherlock looked, the more Jim laughed.

Then Sherlock stands, the chair he'd been sitting on flying backwards. His jaw was set as he clenches his fists and looks away from Jim.

"Are you going to help me or not?" He snaps, the venom in his angry tone meant to sting.

Jim just giggles a few more times, wiping a tear from the side of his eye before straightening and sobering up a little. He still had a small smile on his lips though, unable to remove it despite his efforts.

"What's in it for me?" Jim questions.

Sure, helping take down a drug dealer was fun and all but he may as well get something out of it too.

"£100?" Sherlock raises an eyebrow, as if not expecting Jim to want something.

"Money. Boring." Jim fakes a yawn, although it soon turns into a real one.

He reaches for his coffee cup, bringing it to his lips as he watches Sherlock think.

"The place we need to go is a fair ground. I'll pay for one of those all day bands for the rides there. After we're got the information we can spend the day there" Sherlock shrugs.

"That sounds suspiciously date-like but fine. Computers and funfairs are my weaknesses." Jim laughs, ignoring how Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the date comment.

Looks like he had another not-a-date with Sherlock Holmes, the man that annoyed him to no end almost every day of his life. Well, since about two weeks ago anyway. "Perfect. Meet Irene and I at this address," He gives Jim a piece of paper. "At 11am tomorrow morning. Or I can pick you up at around half nine, your choice. You'll have to call in sick or something."

Jim glances at the card before looking back to Sherlock. "Irene's coming?"

Sherlock nods. "Yes."

"Why?" Jim finds himself asking before he can stop himself.

"She's doing this as revenge and wants to be there when we get the suppler in cuffs. She's not in this for the moral aspects of this quest," Sherlock smirks at his own words, tucking his hands behind his back.

Jim hums. "Sounds like you'd make a good couple."

"Jealous?" Sherlock's smirk widens.

Jim rolls his eyes, turning back to the computer. "Oh yes, very jealous," He mutters sarcastically.

Sherlock gets tired of being ignored some time later and leaves. When he does, Jim can't help but glance at the door and wonder if he was jealous.

He snorts and mentally scalds himself.

In no universe was he jealous of Irene Alder.

Hell, he didn't even want to interact with Sherlock. He was annoying, rude, selfish, annoying, arrogant, condescending, annoying, and did he mention how annoying Sherlock was?

Happy that he was wasn't jealous of Irene for having some form of a bound with such an annoying man, Jim returns to working.

Later that evening, he gets a text message.

_'Shall I pick you up or will you meet us there? Have you called in sick yet? -SH'_

Jim frowns at the message before typing back.

**'How the hell do you have my number?'**

_'Molly'_

Jim sighs, planning on having words with that girl about dropping to her knees for the stupidly pretty man named Sherlock Holmes.

'Whatever. Pick me up. Easier.' 

'See you at 9:30'

Sebastian doesn't ask when Jim furiously stabs his pasta and mutters about 'bloody Sherlock Holmes'.


	10. Again, Not A Date

"Have fun on your date!" Sebastian calls as Sherlock and Jim leave the flat.

"Call it a date one more time, Sebastian, and I will slap you until you cry," Jim growls, flipping his best friend off as Sherlock wordlessly pushes the button for the lift.

Sebastian just blows Jim a kiss before closing the door.

Jim wanted to go back and strangle him.

"So..." Sherlock trails off as they enter the lift, sounding as awkward as Jim felt.

Jim hits the 'G' button before snapping at the detective, voice harsh. "Shut up, Sher-cock!"

He was too tired for this. With Sebastian here, he'd been going to bed a great deal later than he usually would. Plus, he had to get up at eight am this morning to shower and eat before Sherlock arrived. His body wasn't used to waking at eight am after only going to bed four hours prior.

Both of the men remain silent as the lift descends to the ground floor and neither of them breath a word as they climb into the waiting taxi. Irene was there but she was busy texting and didn't break the silence.

Jim was thankful for the quiet as he slumps against the window, watching the world go by as the cab crawled through the London streets to wherever the hell Jim had allowed the detective to take him.

Jim wasn't at all surprised when he receives a text from Molly, who'd clearly gone to see him only to find the man wasn't in his office as he should be.

**_'You alright? Want me to bring some soup round at lunch? xx'_ **

Jim smiles at that before he taps out a reply.

**'Nah. Thanks anyway. I'm not ill, though. A certain detective is dragging me to a funfair x'**

**_'You skipped work for a date? xx'_ **

**'Not. A. Date.'**

Jim was beginning to get more than a little pissed off by the fact every single person he came into contact with assumed that he was dating Sherlock.

**_'Of course it's not ;) Have fun! xx'_ **

Huffing, Jim decides to not bother replying to his friend. He almost wished he wasn't going to the funfair and could go to lunch at Cindy's like he usually does - it had become a tradition for Molly and him now.

"Who you texting?" Irene asks, eyes locked on Jim. It was the first time Jim heard her speak so informally. 'Who you texting' was hardly proper English.

"Your mum," Jim replies with a smirk, mentally giving himself a high-five for the come back.

Irene just raises an eyebrow at that. "Sebastian keeping you up all night?"

Jim opts for simply nodding as a reply. Irene's eyes flash towards Sherlock. Just for a split second. Then she's back to looking at Jim, who was more than half tempted to glance at Sherlock as well.

Sebastian seemed a sour subject for the detective.

Before Jim can cave and look at Sherlock, Irene speaks again.

"Good, is he?"

"Oh, yeah," Jim chuckles, leaving out the fact that they actually done anything of that sort for years and the thought of them doing it now was less than appealing.

Irene seems shocked by that reply, no doubt expecting Jim to snap that it wasn't like that between Sebastian and him like he had the other night.

Sherlock shifts beside Jim, earning himself a glance from Jim. He looked like he felt extremely out of place and uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

"Oh, God. You're not one of those that get all awkward talking about sex, are you?" Jim laughs, nudging Sherlock with his elbow.

Sherlock glares at him. "No."

"Mm.. Okay" Jim hums, not convinced at all by Sherlock's protests.

Sherlock just grunts, jaw setting, before he turns to look out the window. Irene snorts a laugh at the exchange before she goes back to texting at speed of light.

"Who are  _you_ texting?"Jim asks, curious.

"Your dad," Irene smirks.

Jim bows his head in a silent show of respect before they all go quiet for the remainder of the drive.

Jim blamed it entirely on his stupid best friend when he fell asleep on the journey, his head falling on Sherlock's shoulder in his unconscious state and then somehow him ending up with his head in Sherlock's lap during the time he slept.

You know those mornings where you wake up tired and you couldn't give two shits about where you are because no matter how uncomfortable you may be waking is just the absolute late thing you want to do?

Well, Jim was feeling like that right now.

He didn't care that his cheek was pressed right against someone's warm thigh, nor did he care that someone was running a possessive hand through his hair as his body ordered his mind to just stay asleep.

Whoever was touching his hair must have sensed the change in his breathing pattern because a moment later the hand was gone. The tug gave to Jim's hair made him stir and sit up slowly, blinking.

With a yawn, Jim finally registered where he'd been sleeping... well, more specifically, on whom he'd been sleeping.

His eyes grew to the size of saucers, moon sized saucers that is, and he scrambles to push himself as far away from Sherlock as was possible. Sherlock was looking at him too, but he just looked bored.

It certainly wasn't the first time Jim had wanted to slap the man.

Sherlock had touched his hair! That was so not okay. It was probably messy now. Jim quickly raised his phone and opened his camera. Reversing it, he was more than relived to find his hair didn't look like he'd hand Sherlock's huge hands running through it.

"Creep," Jim huffs at Sherlock, sitting properly on his seat and crossing his arms.

Sherlock gives an odd curl of his lips, somewhere behind a smirk and smile before he looks out the window.

_Do. Not. Slap. Him._

Jim currently had over ten reasons he shouldn't listen to the voice. Six of them being how annoying Sherlock could be and is. 

Irene snorts a laugh like she had earlier and mutters something about men being hopeless.

Jim ignores both of them, looking out his own window.

And if Irene saw him glance at Sherlock's hand a number of times throughout the journey, her eyes were just playing tricks on her because Jim had absolutely no reason to look at Sherlock's hands.

None at all. Not a single reason. Nope.

When they  _finally_ pulled up to the funfair entrance, everything crashes down on him.

He had no clue where he needed to go or what exactly he needed to do in order to help. All he knew was that Sherlock needed him to hack a computer. That raised more questions. What computer? Where was this computer? Was there even a computer?

Jim probably should have been asking these questions but he was too busy mentally cursing to even think about seeking answers.

A hand encloses around Jim's upper arm as they exit the cab. Jim glances to his right to see Irene was the one trying to cut off his circulation. Sherlock goes to walk forward but Irene reaches out and takes him by the collar.

Jim was starting to freak out. Was this part of some plan he hasn't been informed of?

Irene leans down to whisper in his ear. "Go along with it, okay?"

"Um..." is all he uttered before Irene began to drag them both towards a ticket booth.

Irene opens her mouth to speak to the fat man sat behind the glass but if she said something, Jim didn't hear it as there was suddenly a burst of pain at the centre of his forehead. His vision goes blurry before everything turns blank and he feels himself fall forwards. He's unconscious before he even hits the ground.


	11. Wrong Place To Be Funny...

Everything was hazy as Jim came to. His head was pounding and felt as if a nail had been hammered into his skull.

He'd choose waking up to Sherlock's hands in his hair over this any day.

Groaning loudly, Jim does his best to sit up and blink. It was absolutely black in the room, darkness suffocating the man who by this point was beginning to panic. Shifting, a rattling from towards his feet is brought to his attention. Blindly, Jim reaches down to find out what it was.

It quickly become clear that Jim is chained to the floor.

Shit. Not good. Not good. So very not good.

"Sherlock? Irene?" Jim asks the darkness, the panic he was feeling reflected clearly in his tone.

He's met with silence.

By this point, Jim's heart in hammering away, threatening to burst from his chest if he didn't find a way to calm himself. Bit difficult when you're chained up in a pitch blank room.

A whimper leaves Jim's mouth as he shuffles back, pressing himself against the wall. He may not be able to see but if someone, if something, attacked him from the front he'd have a shred of hope in fighting them off.

"Oh God.." Jim whispers to himself, tucking his legs close to his chest. He whimpers again. "I should be at a funfair..."

Had he not been scared for his life so severely, Jim would have laughed at that thought.

This was really not funny though. He couldn't see and was all alone in some cold room with his left ankle chained up. Not really the place for comedy.

Despite knowing it was useless, Jim pulls at his chain, praying that by some miracle the chain would just give up and release him.

"If there is a God, I'm sorry for all those songs I downloaded illegally... I know it's stealing. Please, God, I swear I will go to church more and all that, just get me out of this." Jim pauses. "Although, I'm still very much gay but seriously dude? This is the 21st century. Deal with it."

Great, Jim thinks, now he's talking to a deity that he doesn't really believe in and if said deity does exist then Jim is far from his favourite type of person.

But if God loves everyone surely he can look over the fact Jim likes cock, right?

"Right.. I'm going mental and I haven't even been here for five minutes."

With a sigh Jim stands, making sure to keep his back to the wall as he does. He was not made for this kind of thing. And he is definitely not ever going anywhere with Sherlock bloody Holmes ever again.

"If I live, I'm going to bloody kill him. And finally fucking slap him, too." Jim promises himself.

He should probably stop talking to himself now.

Right. He can't just stand here and hope to be saved like some damsel in distress. it's not like Sherlock was suddenly going to swoop in and save him. Jim was no Princess Peach and Sherlock sure as hell wasn't his Mario.

Jim allows himself one more whimper before he mans up, inhaling a large breath. Then, slowly, he starts to shift to the left, his hand feeling the wall in hopes of finding a light switch.

The wall was cold and smooth under Jim's fingertips. A sickening knot formed in his stomach as he realises that the wall he was feeling wasn't really the wall but shed loads of insulation that covered the walls.

The rattling was the chain as he shifts wasn't helping him to man up. He was seriously regretting comparing the other night to a horror movie. That was bloody Scooby-Doo compared to this.

Jim almost trips when the chain is straightened as far as possible, preventing Jim was going any further.

As much as Jim wanted to curl up and wail about just wanting to be at home with his computers, he forces himself to go the other way. He continues to feel the wall, hoping that if there was a light switch then it was on this side of the wall.

The sound of a match being stuck fills the room, a flame revealing half of a pale face to Jim. Those dark eyes cause him to freeze. A cigarette is lit and the man, who must be sitting in a chair going by his height, continues to silently watch Jim.

This was not good.

Jim watches the man, scared to blink. The smoker had shoulder length dirty hair. Matted too. He needed a hairbrush. And a razor. He reminded Jim of those homeless people that, despite just being poor souls, looked creepy as fuck and made you walk faster as you passed them.

The cigarette is slowly stretched out, being offered to Jim.

Why did bad guys always smoke? Did they think that blackening their lungs were scary?

Jim shakes his head. "No thanks. Don't smoke. Lung cancer runs in the family, you see. Dad's had it a few times. Uncle George died because of it. Uncle Owen's the only one who's not taken any issues with his lungs. Who'd want them all black, anyway, right? Plus it makes teeth and fingers yellow, I mean that's just--"

"Shut the fuck up," A gruff voice cuts him off.

Jim shuts up.

"Nice speech to God, faggot," The man smirks, only half of the smirk being revealed to Jim.

Jim flinches at the last word.

"Thanks. Mummy always told me to go into politics," Jim murmurs.

"You're being pretty cocky for a guy chained up."

"Ah, well. I'm just hoping Mario is going to pop up and jump on your head before taking me back to my castle."

The man frowns, obviously having no idea what Jim was going on about. Pity fills Jim. The poor man didn't know who Mario was. Jesus, what did he do as a child?

The pity quickly fades when Jim realises that this person was likely to become the man that murdered Jim Moriarty in his creepy sound proof (thanks to all the insulation on the walls) room where he chains people up.

Silence drags on for some time as puff after puff of the cigarette is taken.

Would this be a bad time for Jim to panic over second hand smoke? Probably.

"So... I'm probably late for dinner. Mind if I go home early?" Jim asks, tilting his head to the side.

Okay, so Jim's survival skills sucked worse than his explanation skills. Hell, his survival skills may even suck as much Sherlock's personality does.

No. Nothing sucks quite that badly.

_Definitely slapping him._

"Oh, yeah. 'Course. I'll just let you go now so you can tell your little detective friend where I am?" His kidnapper answers, sarcasm more than evident in his tone.

"Where is Sherlock?" Jim wonders.

He takes another drag of his cigarette before answers. "No longer with us, shall we say?"

"He's dead?" Jim frowns, not convinced.

He gets a frown in return. Jim fears his lack of reaction may just get him killed.

Was he meant to be scared by this more than fumbling around in the dark without a clue what was happened? Because, the latter was certainly scarier. At least now, he had company.

Jim makes a mental note to get himself a CAT scan if he lives through this.

"Of course he's dead. Couldn't have him alive, could we?"

"Well, considering I'm still alive, I'm sure that you've kept Sherlock alive too"

The man hums, breathing out smoke. "Why's that?"

Jim sighs, shifting on his feet and causing his chain to rattle. Jim was calming down more now he saw how sickeningly cliché this set up was.

"I'm less important than him in this whole thing. He's the one capable off taking down whatever you're doing here. I'm expendable so if you're keeping me, a mere pawn in this game, alive, then you've kept the Queen alive too. The Queen's the one who really want to work on in this checkered battle field," Jim shrugs.

Going by the look on his captor's face, Jim's analogies were confusing him rather than helping to get the point across.

"I don't know what the fuck you just said, but you're wrong."

"Nope," Jim disagrees.

"What?"

Oh God, this guy was dense.

"Sherlock's clearly said nothing so you've come to try and get information from me. Someone's probably threatening to cut Sherlock's dick off right now."

The man chuckles. "You watch too many movies, mate."

"Okay, that's a fair point actually."

Silence again.

This wasn't how the movies went. Unless there was a their party that the kidnapper was waiting for.

Typically, the moment that thought crosses Jim's mind, a door in opened in the left hand corner across from Jim, revealing concrete stairs and half the room. A high heeled foot lowers to the first step, revealing the slender ankles of a woman.

The man who'd been sitting before stands, facing the stairs and standing as straight as a pole.

Jim glances around for something he can use as a weapon. Nothing.

The black high heel makes a loud clicking sound as another step is descend.

His heart rate picks up again, the dramatic and slow entrance of this woman affecting him like it did all those hostages in movies.

Jim's only hope was that his computers were looked after once he was dead.


	12. Injured Idiots

Okay. Jim changes his mind. He's going to slap Irene, not Sherlock. No, scrap that. He'll slap them both.

The woman that was on the stairs. Irene!

Now she stood at the foot of the stairs, smirking at Jim like she'd just won the right to have a tea party with Prince Harry and all the other pretty single guys with a status.

So much for Irene being everyone's friend. Jim certainly didn't feel like she was his damn friend.

The creepy guy, who Jim hoped got lung cancer, stood then and openly drooled over Irene. Jim was a little worried the guy would get a little too happy in a situation where it would be wildly out of place.

"Where's Sherlock?" Jim questions Irene, glaring at her.

He knew he was right to take a dislike to her.

Irene opens her mouth but instead of replying, she sighs. After a brief pause, she quickly turns to the side, fist raised and knocks the man to the side. He falls to the floor, unconscious from just a single hit.

Relief. Nothing but relief fills Jim.

Irene hadn't betrayed them. Still didn't make Jim like her a whole lot. She was like that annoying cousin that you really, really hate but you do love them, you just never admit it because they're so god damn annoying.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side..." Jim trails off, chuckling a little.

Irene flashes him a smirk before she searches the unconscious man's pockets. It doesn't take her long to produce a key. So tosses it to Jim who just manages to catch it.

"C'mon, Jimmy, you've got a computer to hack."

"Don't call me that," Jim frowns before he works at releasing himself from the chain.

When he's free he joins Irene and hands the key back. She pockets it before heading for the stairs. Jim follows, not up to staying down here.

"Where's Sherlock?" Jim asks again.

They enter a hallway and Jim glances around quickly. Looks like an abandoned warehouse of some kind.

Surprisingly, Jim was pretty calm. He doubted anything could be as scary as waking up in pure darkness, alone and chained to the floor.

"We're going to get him now. He's currently chained to a wall."

Jim's eyes widen. "Wow. Whoever's in charge of this is one kinky fucker,"

Irene glances at him, unable to keep her laughter in as they walk briskly towards another door. Jim smiles at her before she comes to a stop outside a door. It's marked with a number 5 but other than that it's just a plain white door. Eerie.

"Right. I'm going to go in first. They all know me and think I'm on their side. I'll shout when you can come down, or if I need you down there"

Jim nods to her, becoming serious now.

"He.. He'll be alright, yeah? They won't have hurt him?"

"Honestly, Jim? I have no clue," Irene gives him a sad smile.

Jim nods. He would have preferred she lied to him and said that Sherlock would be fine. Not that he'd ever admit out loud to being worried about the irritating detective. It was human to hope people weren't injured. It didn't mean anything.

Irene pushes him away from the door so he's against the wall.

"Stay there unless  _I_  call for you. Don't move into the doorway."

"Got it," Jim nods.

She stops and looks at him, as if debating. Jim raises an eyebrow in return, silently asking why she was standing and staring at him when Sherlock was chained to a wall, possibly hurt.

Irene removes something from the back of her skirt and holds it out to him. When his eyes fall onto the object, his shock clearly shows on his face.

In Irene's hand, being offered to him, was a gun.

"That's.. That's a gun," He states, not sure what else to say.

"Take it. Keep an eye out. Before long, they're going to start figuring out their men are laying unconscious and that we're all gone. Do you know how to use it?" She tilts her head to the side.

Jim's mind goes back to his and Sherlock's first not-a-date. Sherlock had shown him the basics of handling a gun and he'd even hit the centre of the target a few times. But his life wasn't exactly on the life back then and it may just be now.

He gives a nod and a quick smile as an answer to her question. Irene returns the smile before she pushes the door open and proceeded to enter as dramatically slow as she did when coming to get Jim.

Listening carefully, Jim tries to figure out if Sherlock is being hurt or not. He can't hear any cries of pain, that was a good sign.

Five agonisingly slow minutes later, Sherlock is calling Jim's name. His voice is frantic and it sends Jim's heart into his throat. He freezes, not knowing if he should move or not. Does Sherlock know he's up here or is he calling in hopes to be saved? Is Irene done with knocking out whoever was down there and reassuring Sherlock that she is on their side?

Oh, God. Jim had no idea what to do. Does he stay here, like Irene instructed, or does he rush down and try to help Sherlock?

"Jim! Please!" Sherlock calls, voice riddled with pain.

He said Jim. He called him Jim. This must be serious.

Jim has no idea what to do.

Biting his lower lip, Jim decides to risk it. Slowly, being careful to stay out of view as much as possible, he leans forward to look around the doorframe.

"Shit" He gasps at what he sees.

Sherlock is at the bottom of the stairs, clutching his bleeding leg and staring up the stairs in hopes of Jim coming to help. Beside him, Irene is unconscious as is a large man who looked like he'd be sitting right beside Jim's homophobic friend as they drink and beg for change.

Jim almost trips over his own feet as he rushes down the stairs. When he gets to the foot of the stairs, he pauses. What now?

There's no way he can carry them both. He'd probably need help carrying Sherlock.

Remembering that promise to himself, and knowing he needed to wake her up, Jim lifts a hand and slaps Irene across the face once. No response.

"Shit" Jim mutters again.

Sherlock was watching him, eyes worried but face almost bored looking. Jim swallows, knowing that waking Irene up was essential. That or they left her here.

"Her arm..." Sherlock says, eyes dropping to Irene's arm. His voice is hoarse and Jim knows his leg must be hurting.

The wound of Sherlock's leg looks nasty. It's a large cut. His trousers are ripped completely around the wound and blood is causing the fabric to stick to the detective's pale skin. Jim winces at the sight of it.

Jim then follows Sherlock's line of sight and quickly sees that he means the wound on Irene's arm. She's been stabbed in the upper arm, by the looks of it. Jim frowns, wondering why he didn't hear any cries of pain.

"What about it?" Jim asks.

"Press down on it. If that doesn't wake her by, I don't know what will." He looks toward the open door. "We need to leave as soon as possible. The computer's not far from here."

Jim stares for a moment, wondering how the hell he can be honestly considering going ahead with the plan with his leg in that state but then he remembers that this is Sherlock and Sherlock can be really, really stupid at times.

Sighing, Jim pushes the palm of his hand down on Irene's wound for a few moments. Much to his delight, she gasps in pain and sits up. She grips her arm, staring down at it for a moment before taking hold of the end of her dress and ripping the fabric.

She then hands the strip to Jim and nods to Sherlock's leg.

He nods and sets to work on wrapping up the wound as best he could. Sherlock stays relatively silent through the whole ordeal, just sucking in breathes now and then.

Soon, Irene (who somehow wrapped her own arm in more fabric) and Jim are lifting Sherlock up and helping him hop up the stairs.

When they get to the top of the stairs, Jim turns towards what looked like an exit but he ends up getting pulled back by Sherlock.

Huffing, Jim raises an eyebrow.

"Now what?"

The only thing stopping Jim from slapping him was the massive gash in his leg.

Sherlock nods to the door across from them. "Computer's in there. You still need to hack it."

He had no clue how Sherlock knew it was in there. Sometimes he honestly believes that the man had superpowers.

"Seriously?" Jim asks in disbelief "You're both in need of medical attention and you want me to hack a computer?"

"Yes, obviously," Sherlock replies, growing impatient.

Jim shakes his head. "Pair of idiots."

Irene still hadn't uttered a single word.

They help Sherlock into the dark room, that looked like an office as opposed to a torture room. After helping Sherlock sit down on a chair, Jim stars up the computer that sat on the desk with a sigh.

Sherlock was watching him intently and a part of Jim wanted to wink at him. He represses the urge and sets to work on hacking the computer.


	13. Hospital Kisses.

Hacking the computer had been ridiculously simple and much like when Sherlock's laptop was 'poorly' Jim has a strong feeling the genius could have easily achieved what he wanted without Jim's help. Why he constantly dragged him into these situations, Jim will never know.

When he was completely done and the details Sherlock wanted were on the screen, Jim turned the computer so Sherlock could easily see them and didn't need to move around on his leg.

The detective is quick to start texting someone, without so much as a word. Irene stands behind him, shamelessly peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. Jim was curious but not only was he polite enough to not read over someone's shoulder, he was also very much rooted to the floor.

He was beyond worried someone would just stroll in, see them and either kill them or signal an alert to the rest of the building so someone with even less mercy could slowly chop them into little bits and send it to their families.

Jim suddenly had a mental image of Sebastian opening a letter, Jim's mother stood beside him, and he pulls out Jim's left ear. His mother shrieks and faints. Sebastian just stares in shock.

He shivers at the thought.

"Um, shouldn't we be leaving?" Jim asks, not even hiding the fear in his voice.

Sherlock stops typing, his fingers coming to a stand still on keyboard as he looks up at Jim. He  _almost_ looks guilty. The guilt, if that's what it was, is gone within moments and Sherlock nods, standing up with help from Irene.

Seeing how the woman was struggling to support the injured, and clearly pained, Sherlock, Jim moves to Sherlock's other side and slings one of those long arms around his neck.

Together, the three of them slowly make their way out of the room and towards the exit.

Sherlock's hand had a death grip on Jim's shoulder but Jim said nothing, knowing full well that with each step he took Sherlock was holding in a cry of sheer pain.

A text alert, Sherlock's, pierces through the silence then and Jim has no power over the way he flinched at the sudden sound.

"That'll be Lestrade. He'll have our man in cuffs by now."

Jim blinks at Sherlock's words. Surely it wasn't that simple and easy. No way. Sherlock had been after this guy for months, he'd said. It can't just be that easy.

"That was quick..."

Sherlock chuckles, beaming at Jim. "Thanks to you, yes. Without that information it may have taken me years of undercover work to find him." He makes a muffled noise as they step again, his fingers tightening on Jim's shoulder. He continues a moment later, speaking as if nothing happened. "He knew it too. Knew that no-one could find him. He was a nameless, faceless ghost before. So he was in the open, knowing he could risk it. Easy catch."

Jim nods, understanding it but still unable to believe it was so easy. They round a corner and Jim's worries dissolve as he spots the large 'EXIT' sign above a door at the end of the corridor.

They burst out of the door, all eager to get the hell out of that building. Police lights blind Jim and Irene's grip on Sherlock suddenly disappears, leaving Jim to blindly attempt to hold Sherlock up. They stumble but Jim manages.

"What the fuck?" Jim snaps at the women, who was simply standing there.

She ignores him, looking at Sherlock with fond eyes, a small smile on her lips that just makes Jim's blood boil.

"Thank you, Mr Holmes," She purrs, eyelashes fluttering.

Jim fights a sudden urge to growl.

Sherlock bows his head in a single nod. "You are welcome, Ms Alder."

Was Sherlock... responding to her flirting? Or just being polite? Maybe he just saw replying as a necessary pleasantry.

"Til the next time" Irene winks before turning on her heels and walking away, still looking like a woman worthy of the throne in her ripped and ruined dress.

"Hey!" Jim shouts, angry. "Sherlock needs help. You can't just walk away!"

Despite Jim's words, she keeps walking.

"Bitch," Jim huffs the word before looking to Sherlock.

Sherlock giggles a bit at Jim's lovely description of Irene before sighing in a way that suggested he was in much pain. He leans further into Jim, head rolling back onto his shoulder.

Jim doesn't let himself think about how it must look. Instead, he starts to debate whether he should try and carry Sherlock bridal style or not. He wasn't too sure if he'd be strong enough.

Just as he was about to put his arm under Sherlock's knees a man with slivery grey hair appears, heading straight for them. Jim vaguely recognised him, having seen him around Bards on occasion.

Unless Jim was very wrong, then this was the DI from Scotland Yard that Sherlock sometimes worked with. What division the DI worked in, however, Jim had no idea.

"Sherlock, we got the guy. I text-" He cuts off, eyes falling to Sherlock's poorly bandaged leg. "Shit! I'll go get the nurse."

He starts to turn back when Sherlock starts to shake his head.

"No. Don't bother, Lestrade" Sherlock protests. "John will take care of it when I get home."

Before Lestrade could reply, Jim snorts. "You are going to that bloody nurse and the hospital, Sherlock."

"I-"

"No" Jim cuts in before Sherlock had barely started. "Shut up and just do as you're being told for once"

Surprisingly, Sherlock shuts up and allows Jim to lead him to where an ambulance is waiting, already treating a few scrapes people had received in whatever trouble Lestrade's men had caused.

Frowning, Sherlock turns to a confused looking Lestrade (who was glancing between Jim and Sherlock). "Why is there already an ambulance?" Sherlock demands.

Lestrade snaps back to being professional and pulls out his phone. "You text me saying:  _Two unconscious in underground rooms, others scattered over the fair grounds. Find this man._  And then the picture and details of our friend over there," He points to a police car where a rough looking man sat in the back, looking very annoyed. "Of course I was going to bring an ambulance."

Sherlock was nodding through the explanation, barely sparing the man they'd been after a glance. Two nurses had sat him in the back of the ambulance, treating his leg and tutting at the poor attempt Jim had made to wrap the wound.

Jim awkwardly takes a seat beside the injured man. Sherlock sends him a small thankful smile but of course says nothing.

Git, Jim thinks fondly.

No. Not fondly. He wasn't  _fond_ of Sherlock in any way, shape or form.

They weren't even friends.

Nearly three hours later, Jim found himself sat in a sparkling clean white waiting room. Sherlock was getting stitches for his leg and then they'd be on their way back home.

While he waits, Jim takes out his phone and brings up his chat box with 'Sebby <3'. There's a bunch of unread messages, at first they were just Sebastian being a tease and saying about it being a date and how he was not to have sex. Then they got ugly.. Sebastian was worrying and texting in caps lock and demanding to know where the hell Jim was.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Jim taps out a message explaining where he was. He then reconsiders and types out another that doesn't mention the hospital.

**'I'm fine, Seb. I'll be back later on. Get some food. xx'**

_'You're missing for nearly ten hours and all you have to say is: get some food?'_

Oh, shit. No kisses. Jim knew that meant Sebastian was very angry. Very very angry.

**'Sorry. xx'**

_'What food do you want, you stupid reckless friend of mine? xx'_

Jim had never been more relived to see xx's on the end of a message.

**'What ever you fancy. See you soon. xx'**

_'Yep. xx'_

Another hour later, Sherlock came out of the doors on crutches but otherwise was looking as healthy as ever.

With a relived grin, Jim made his way over to Sherlock. He was very nearly tempted to hug him.

"Alright?" Jim asks, a bit eager.

_Smooth, Jim. Real smooth._

Not that Jim wants to be smooth around Sherlock. He doesn't care what Sherlock may or may not think about him as a person. He has no reason to care. Obviously.

"Do I look alright?' Sherlock quips in a playful manner, quirking an amused eyebrow.

Jim thought he looked as gorgeous as ever really, despite all the scrapes and cuts.

Colour explodes over Sherlock's cheek then and his eyes widen, locking on to Jim and darting around his face as if trying to riddle something out.

"What?" Sherlock asks, eventually. He was still in shock.

It's then Jim realises that his thoughts hadn't stayed in his head like he had assumed they would. Oops.

Of course. It's just typical, isn't it? The one time that Jim doesn't mentally add an insult after anything nice he'd thought about Sherlock is the one time, the  _one_ time, when he accidentally opens the floodgate between his brain and mouth.

"I.." Jim licks his lips, nervously. There was no way he could back of this one. "Well, you're a pretty man."

"A pretty man?" Sherlock repeats with a smirk.

Jim grits his teeth, a very familiar chant entering his head.

_Don't slap him. Don't slap him. Don't slap him._

"Yes." Jim snaps as a reply, annoyed. 'You're a fucking pretty man. Now shut the fuck up and take me home."

"Stop swearing. It's rude and lessens your vocabulary." Sherlock tuts.

"I will swear as much as I fucking like, okay?" It was clear in his voice that he's annoyed with Sherlock's antics.

Crutches or not, Jim was close to slapping the smug git.

Sherlock moves closer, close enough that Jim could faintly smell Sherlock's sweet, almost girly aftershave. Only a little, however. Mainly he could just smell some mix of Sherlock's blood and sweat. It was.. odd to say the least.

Jim doesn't move back though, far too stubborn to show that kind of weakness when all he really wanted was to reach out and wring Sherlock's scrawny little neck.

"So... You think I'm gorgeous?" Sherlock smirks.

"You're still an annoying brat"

"I'm older than you," Sherlock pointed out with his 'ha-ha, I win' look.

His smirk hadn't left. Jim hated that gorgeous smirk.

When Jim doesn't reply, just glares, he expects Sherlock to make another smart arse remark or start babbling on about something. He doesn't do that, though. What he does do.. shocks Jim a lot.

Sherlock leans forward on his crutches and captures Jim's lips with his own before Jim can even process what was going on. It's an awkward kiss, Sherlock sticking his neck out and Jim half frozen.

He can feel Sherlock's soft lips moving against his and doesn't even realise that he's responding just as eagerly. As well as being soft, Sherlock's lips are addicting, just making Jim want more and more. A wave of warmth goes through Jim, stopping in his chest and making his heart race.

He's definitely kissing back by this point, his own lips moving against Sherlock's with a small hum. Neither open their mouth, keeping it slow, sweet and innocent.

He hadn't been kissed in a long while and Sherlock was definitely good at it.

Jim's mind eventually catches up with him, however, and it's as if someone hit a worldwide panic button.

   _Sherlock is kissing him._  


With a small gasp, Jim pushes the other man back and stares hard at him with widen eyes. He.. Oh, God. Jim's cheeks burn, both from embarrassment and frustration. Sherlock made his blood boil on a good day and now he does this!

"I.. I can't believe you did that! What the hell?!" Jim shouts, unnecessarily loud.

Sherlock just smirks again. "You didn't seem to be complaining at the time."

Jim doesn't even bother to hold himself back. He completely ignores the chanting in his head and raises his hand, swiping it across Sherlock's face with a loud  _smack!_ Sherlock's head snaps to the side and his cheek instantly grows a hot painful looking red in the shape of Jim's hand.

Satisfied he'd hurt the other man, Jim turns on his heel and heads for the exit.

The cab ride home was going to be awkward...


	14. Can I Kiss You?

As predicted the cab ride home passed in an eerily awkward silence. Jim sat as close to the door and as far away from Sherlock as possible for the entire time, ignoring his body's demands that he sleep. Sherlock would look at him, he could feel it. He hated the way it made him blush and just ignores it, feigning innocence.

The moment Jim steps into his flat the clock had just ticked passed half past three in the morning. He collapsed onto his scruffy little sofa that he desperately needs to replace. Exhausted.

It didn't take long for Sebastian to find him passed out with an arm uncomfortably tucked behind his head, utterly dead to the world. The poor man had to go to work in about four or five hours as well.

Feeling sorry for him, Sebastian carries his sleeping friend to the bed and makes sure he's comfortable. Jim releases a content sigh and Sebastian slides into the bed beside him with a smile.

  
_7:30am._ Jim's alarm scares the life out of him but does it's job of waking the two sleepy men up.

"Arghh, turn it  _off!_ " Sebastian whines, burying his head under his pillow.

Jim laughs a bit but it transforms into a yawn half way through. He stretches his arm out and hits the button, silencing the evil alarm clock.

"C'mon Sebby, you're coming into work with me today," Jim grins, sitting up in the bed.

He'd asked permission from his boss before Sebastian even arrived and was told that his friend was more than welcome to come in for a few days during the week (even though Sebastian was going home tomorrow). Molly had been overjoyed with the news. She was so enthusiastic about it, you'd think Jim told her that he was getting hitched.

"Um.. No." comes the deadpan reply from under the covers.

"Um.. Yes." Jim replies, voice far more amused than Sebastian's.

"Arghhhh!" The man roars again, trying to push himself further down into the bed.

Such a drama queen, Jim thinks with an eye roll. Then again, he was the same most of the time. Then on top of that, Sebastian had always been a pain in the arse to wake up. He'd kick and scream and even cry when they were younger and he  _really_ didn't want to wake up. Now he just kicks and screams. It's a horrible experience that Jim wouldn't wish on his worst enemies.

"Groan all you like, you're coming with me" Jim chuckles.

He then swings his legs to the side, resting his feet on the ground, making sure that he took a good quarter of the cover with him as he did. He did love to annoy Sebastian so.

Jim stands then, grinning at the thought of irritating his best friend. He keeps hold of the cover on his hips, dragging the duvet with him to the door so Sebastian was left with none, laying on the bed in just his boxers.

Sebastian curls in on himself, refusing to get up despite Jim's effort.

"For fuck's sake, Seb!" Jim huffs, but you can tell his amused. One of Sebastian's eyes open to look at his friend, who immediately begins to pout in the only irresistible way he knows how.  "Pleeease, Sebby?"

Sebastian gives a long sigh before replying. "Fine..."

Jim grins triumphantly and turns to go get ready for work. First stop was the shower.

Before Jim knew it, hours had passed. The day before seemed so distant and unreal...

Molly and Sebastian had been introduced and seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. It was great, knowing his two best friends got along with each other. Possessive friends got on Jim's nerves.

Lunch had just arrived and, naturally, Jim and Molly take Sebastian to Cindy's for lunch. Lunch at Cindy's was their thing now and it was amazing how Sebastian fit into the routine so well.

They all sit at a table in the corner, Molly was laughing at something Sebastian had said. Jim smiles at them both.

"It's on me today" He tells them.

Molly tries to object but he convinces her and takes their orders before heading towards the counter. A quick scan of the menu board and Jim had decided what he wanted and rounded the price it would be to the closest pound for he knew what to get ready.

They came here so often that it wouldn't be long before they had the menu (prices and all) memorised and the staff knew their names.

"Hi, Jim!" The overly friendly, but still kinda cute, cashier beams.

Jim briefly wonders if they could read his mind before he gives their order. A quick glance at the boy's name tag, 'Jeff' apparently, and Jim asks "How much is that then, Jeff?"

The boy looks confused, a frown slowly taking over his features. "Jeff...?" It's then his eyes light up, remembering something, and he looks down at the badge of his shirt. "Oh no, I lost my actual one. My name is Alex."

"Oh! Well, nice to meet you then, Alex.."

Alex chuckles before he starts to ring all the items up.

Jim's gut twists, both in excitement and in nervousness, when he hears a familiar voice from behind him.

"A chocolate muffin and a black coffee too, please"

Alex raises an eyebrow at Jim, asking if he should add the order. Jim gives a single nod and glances at Sherlock when he steps beside him. He's smirking and Jim is half tempted to slap him again. More than anything else though, Jim wanted to run away.

Sherlock turns and looks straight at him while they wait for their orders.

"You look tired," He sounds almost concerned...

Jim shakes away that thought. One kiss didn't mean anything. Besides, the slap that Jim gave him after should have got the message across. Jim couldn't help but wonder.. What if he hasn't stopped Sherlock and slapped him? What if he just continued kissing him? What was Sherlock aiming for with the kiss?

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sherlock didn't go around kissing people randomly.

"I am tired," Jim answers after a brief pause. "No thanks to you"

Sherlock casts his eyes down towards his feet, no longer making eye contact. "I.. apologise. Things didn't go quite to plan."

The apology was mumbled but Jim hears it none the less and no smirks. He wishes he had a camera to capture this with of Sherlock, apologising and looking down like a guilty child who stole all the cookies. That's a picture he'd have to frame.

Sherlock shifts, uncomfortable under Jim's gaze (that makes Jim grin more), but he winces as his leg moves. It's then Jim remembers that the other man had stitches in his leg and  _should_ be on crutches.

"You idiot, where are your crutches?" Jim huffs for the second time today.

He's surrounded by idiotic men. Sometimes, he wonders why he's even gay. How he can be attracted to such an idiotic and plain stupid gender... Although, they are very very pretty.

_Not the time for fantasies, Jim..._

With that in mind, Jim turns his attention to Sherlock again.

"I don't need them. My leg-"

"Is quite obviously hurting," Jim interrupts what was no doubt going to be the words 'is fine'

Sherlock raises his head, apparent guilt forgotten, and he glares at Jim. The man just smiles back though, not fazed by having those icy eyes turn so cold on him.

Sherlock goes to say something but Jim cuts in before he can.

"Don't argue. You know I'm right."

He'd have said more too, but their orders arrived at the hatch just then. You could get people to bring over your orders but Jim preferred to carry it himself, never trusting people and always hating how he wasn't sure whether to make conversation with them when they got to the table or not. He was so awkward at times.

Sherlock picks up one of the trays, which had his and Molly's lunch on, while Jim took the other, which had his and Sebastian's lunch on.

Neither Molly or Sebastian seemed surprised to see Sherlock. They'd probably seen him come in and approach Jim. Molly's eyes immediately go to Sherlock's leg where, other than a tiny limp, there are no signs he'd been injured. Jim had told them both all about yesterday, minus the kiss.

Telling people made it more real so he wasn't going to breathe a word.

Sherlock takes the free seat, between Molly and Sebastian. He was across from Jim and smirks when he looks up to see Jim. With gritted teeth, Jim starts eating his roll.

"Sherlock, you've got a fat lip..." Molly says, trailing off worriedly.

Sherlock raises a hand to his bottom lip, prodding it gently. "Oh. That'll be where John punched me. He got worried when I didn't get home until five in the morning. He stayed up waiting for me, apparently."

"You two sound like a married couple," Sebastian laughs. Sherlock makes a sour face at that, clearly not liking the idea.

"No. John treats Sherlock more like a child," Molly disagrees. "It's like John is a big protective older brother."

Sherlock snorts. "Yeah, because I need another one of those."

That makes Molly laugh.

Jim wasn't really paying all that much attention to what they were all saying, not really, he was focused on something Sherlock had said.

Five in the morning? Jim was back an hour and a half before that, and it was only about ten minutes to Baker Street from where he lives. So that means that Sherlock didn't go straight home.

Where did he go?

Curiosity was eating away at Jim but he didn't say a word, just continued with his lunch.

They all walk back to Bart's when they were done eating. Sherlock was questioning Molly about a corpse, giving Jim a weird sense of déjà vu. The last time Sherlock was with them at Cindy's, he flirted with Molly a bit to get her to roll a dead guy out.

He did the same today, giving Jim an odd feeling. He felt sick.

Sebastian seems to notice something was off because he wraps an around Jim's shoulders as they walk. Jim gives the taller man a thankful smile before he snuggles closer, basking in the comforting feel of being hugged by his best friend.

Jim can feel eyes on him, but he doesn't care. He was happy that Sebastian pushed the sick feeling away, made him forget it.

Just before they are all about to step into Bart's, a hand encloses around his wrist and Jim is twirled out of Sebastian's embrace.  He comes face to face with an angry looking Sherlock.

Sebastian stops and puts a hand on Jim's arm, asking a silent question. Jim swears he heard a growl from Sherlock. He ignores that for the moment and nods to his friend. Once Sebastian has disappeared, Jim turns back to Sherlock.

"Were you just.. growling at Sebastian?" After asking that, Jim feels a bit stupid. Why the hell would Sherlock growl? He's not an animal.

Surprisingly, Sherlock answers with a sneer of "yes" before he grips Jim's wrist harder and tugs him towards the side of the building.

There was a small alley down the back and Sherlock walks them almost all the way to the end, Jim struggling all the way but powerless against the other's grip. Jim is let go of when Sherlock stops and he immediately back himself against the wall, leaning on it for support.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Jim shouts, rubbing his sore wrist.

Sherlock glares at him, looking an angry as Jim felt. "What's my problem? You were the one who, yesterday, started the whole 'Sherlock's gorgeous' thing. Then you kissed me back.  _Then_ you  _slapped_ me. And you say I have a problem when this whole time you've had a boyfriend!"

Before the last comment, Jim was standing straighter and preparing to throw comments back to Sherlock's angry words. They all die on his tongue he realises that Sherlock is very very jealous of who he assumes is Jim's boyfriend.

As much as Jim would have liked to say that he replied in a mature way, correcting Sherlock's mistake, reality was far from that. The moment it clicked that Sherlock thought Jim was with Sebastian, Jim was laughing harder than he had in a long time.

He was laughing so much that he felt tears well in the corner of his eyes.

"He..." Jim tries but can't get the words out because he's laughing so much.

Sherlock frowns, unsure whether to be confused or angry. "What?"

"Sebastian.. He isn't my boyfriend" Jim manages to get then words out between laughs.

His laughter is cut off, however, when Sherlock suddenly pins him against the wall and stares at him, their lips just inches away from one another's. Jim swallows, not sure he wanted to know where this was going.

He tries to move out of his grip but can't. Sherlock's too strong.

"I like you, James..." Sherlock says, voice almost vulnerable.

"I.. My name is Jim..."

"Can I kiss you?" Sherlock asks, his lips moving just that bit closer.

Jim has no idea what to say. He doesn't know if he even wants Sherlock to kiss him. Sherlock annoys him, destroy his computers and drags him into dangerous situations. But yes, Jim does still want those soft lips back on his own.

This is Sherlock though. All they do is argue with each other and make the other want to pull their hair out. Nothing good would come from a kiss.

"Let me go..." Jim whispers, pushing his pinned wrist forward.

Sherlock presses his lips into a small line but nods and backs off. He watches Jim as he walks away.


	15. I Owe You.

 

_"I like you, James.."_

_"I like you, James.."_

_"I like you, James.."_

The words swirled around Jim's head, day in and day out. He hadn't seen Sherlock since then, but his voice was forever at the back of his mind repeating those four words over and over in a never ending cycle.

Sebastian had gone home, reluctantly. He could see that something was off about Jim and promised to visit again soon. Jim would definitely miss him. He considering asking Sebastian to move in with him but the single room wasn't realistic and Jim didn't want to move. His flat was never a 'home' anyway and he didn't see much point in trying to make it that way. 

Molly was concerned too, noticing that Jim laughed less and zoned out tons more than usual when they had lunch or spent time together. She had no idea what happened, but could tell exactly when it started. She had clenched her fists, angry with Sherlock.

Jim knew that his friends were worried but he couldn't bring himself to shake off those words. Sherlock likes him. And not in a friendship way. What the heck was he supposed to make of that?

He didn't know what to do. The man annoyed the hell out him, made his blood boil with rage more than homophobic preachers did, and yet he was craving those soft lips.

He wanted to feel them again. On the tip of his fingers and on his own lips. Anywhere and everywhere.

But it was best this way, wasn't it?

He was saving them pain. It was just stupid hormones.

If they took whatever it was they had (Jim wouldn't exactly call it friendship) to the next level, they'd be at each other's throats ninety percent of the time. Arguing about very stupid things like leaving the cap off the toothpaste.

Did Jim want that?

The answer was yes. He liked the way they argued, he already knew that. Ever since the shooting range, Jim had a small smile on his face when Sherlock and him threw witty comment back and forth. He liked the way he could rattle Sherlock and make him angry.

But they couldn't have a relationship like that.. Things would get taken to heart eventually...

It was all too fucked up for words. Jim was a simple man. He didn't want all this drama, it was just one reason he'd been single for so long.

Maybe he should go find Sherlock and talk to him?

Turns out he didn't need to, because when he walked into his office on Friday morning Sherlock was stood there with two cups of coffee, one in either hand.

He'd come to Jim. Why did that make Jim feel so terrible? So guilty.

He wished he'd been able to glide into his office and smile at Sherlock without hesitation or doubt but, much to his annoyance, he did pause in the doorway as those four words ran through his mind.

When he does enter, he's handed a Vanilla Coffee.

"I got you coffee," Sherlock tells him, voice quiet but not quite sad.

"Thanks..." Jim replies, sipping the coffee as he takes a seat and starts up his computers one by one.

Silence drags on for sometime between them, the low sounds of the computers starting seeming like scream in the silent room. Dear God, it was so awkward. Jim had taken to tapping a beat on his thigh, fidgeting in an attempt to escape the suffocating awkwardness.

It hadn't been this awkward in the café or the alley. Why was it now?

Sherlock had said.. what he said but it's not like that was  _news_ to Jim.

Jim really did understand the way some things worked. They just did.

"I.." Sherlock pauses for a second and Jim turns to face him. "I've been thinking." Sherlock continues.

Jim's palms were sweaty, not knowing quite what to expect.

"About?"

"About everything that happened.. and I realised something," Sherlock was speaking more confidently now.

Jim didn't even detect the nervous quiver his voice had until it was gone. The detective had a soft smile on his face too, and Jim automatically relaxes at the sight of it. 

"What's that?" Jim questions, smiling back gently as well.

He had a feeling he'd be okay with whatever Sherlock planned on saying. Not that he'd ever admit that, obviously.

"Well.." There's a long pause and Jim's heart jumps all over the place "I owe you a trip to the funfair, don't I?"

After blinking a few times, the words fully register and Jim breaks out into a large grin, his shoulders shaking as he let's out a soft, light laugh. Sherlock's smile increases in size too and he grins back at Jim, happy that things weren't weird or awkward anymore. Seems they were just going to avoid talking about it.

"You do, don't you?" Jim says, still laughing.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow. Eleven, okay?" Sherlock asks, tilting his head to the side and giving Jim the most adorable smile he'd ever seen.

He looked like a little kid sweetly asking his mother if she loved him.

"Yeah," Jim nods, a bit breathless. Really, Sherlock could be so beautiful at times.

Sherlock stays for a little longer and they talk like they normally would. Sherlock teases Jim, and Jim teases back, snapping each time he got called 'James'. Then Jim seems to remember where he was and that he really should be working and he sends Sherlock away.

Sherlock winks as he leaves, thankfully not noticing how red that made Jim go.

One thing was for sure; Jim sure as hell regretted telling Sherlock to let him go.

This was better for them. Keeping things light and just seeing if it got them anywhere. If Jim sat around and thought about it too much, he'd end up pushing Sherlock away and hurting them both.

Jim felt ten thousand times better when he walked home. He had a skip in his step again and when he bumped into Molly on his way out (quite literally - her paperwork went everywhere) she noticed the change immediately and beamed at him.

The moment he gets home, Jim slips his shoes off and settles on the sofa wit his legs crossed as if he were about to start a yoga session. He slides his laptop out of it's case that sat on the coffee table and starts it up, resting his beloved machine on his lap.

For once, however, it wasn't his way of ignoring the world around him. This time, he was opening his laptop in hopes that he'd waste time and tomorrow would come sooner.

He couldn't wait for the funfair.

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**Starting Up....**

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_Username: Jim_06_

_Password: pasS12 >woRd00_

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**Loading...**

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Welcome back, Jim_06!

You have four new messages.

8/95 contacts online.

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**SkaterBoy:** Cocky git.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Ah, I can feel the love.

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[Conversation started at 18:54]

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Carol's doing well. Toby's a handful but her and her hubby seem to mange. I love being an uncle.

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Holy shit, you're online!

  
**_Jim_06:_** I am.

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Wow...

  
**_Jim_06:_** Okay, Don, calm down. ;)

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Flirtly little git.

  
**_Jim_06:_** You love me.

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Oh, of course. Don't you love me?

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Not really.

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Bastard.

  
**_Jim_06:_ :** p

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** I gotta go man. Make sure you get your butt online more often.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Roger that.

_[DatAwesomeGuyDon has logged off]_

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[Conversation started at 19:17]

  
**_Jim_06:_** Bit surprised to see you online...

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Ah, well. I live to annoy you, James. ;)

  
**_Jim_06_ :** I knew it! I knew you were sent to this planet to pester me.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** So now I'm an alien.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Yep.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** At least I'm a gorgeous alien.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** That you are, Sher-cock.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** You spelt my name wrong.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Nope. You just don't know how to spell your own name.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Of course.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** :P

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Is everything still okay for tomorrow? You haven't got plan with Sebastian or anything, have you?

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Sebastian's gone home.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Good.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Jealous?

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Yes.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Cute.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Cute?

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Yep.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** I prefer 'gorgeous'.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Shut up and be grateful I'm even giving you my time of day.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Ah, and the James we all know returns.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Shut up.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** See you tomorrow, Jim. I'm looking forward to it.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Me too. I can't wait. I love the funfair.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** You've said.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Sorry to do this to you but I have to go. The hand in the fridge is deforesting.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** I don't even want to know....

  
**_Jim_06_ :** See you tomorrow then.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Goodbye.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Bye! x

_[TheConsultingDetective has logged off]_

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Wait. You called me Jim...

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_Sign In. Hotmail._

**Inbox (1)**

Elizabeth Moriarty

Honey, when will you be visiting? I haven't...

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From: _EMoriarty110@gmail.co.uk_

Jim, you haven't called or text me or your dad in months. I don't care how old you are, I want to know how my baby is doing. You should come visit when you can get some time off work.

Or is it a boy that's keeping you busy?

If that's the case then why have you been keeping him a secret? I want to meet him! I promise not to get all the baby pictures out like I did when you first brought Sebastian home.

Anyway, darling. Keep yourself healthy (and pick up the blasted phone once in a while!)

-Lots of love, Mum. xxx

[Reply] [Delete]

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To: _EMorarity110@gmail.co.uk_

From: JimIT@hotmail.co.uk

RE: Honey, when will you be visiting? I...

Sorry, Mum!

Works keeping me busy but I promise I'll make time to come visit you and dad soon. I'll make sure to come while the weather's still decent too. So definitely soon. In a few weeks maybe?

I'll let you know.

Love you too. xxx

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**Logging off...**

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**Shutting Down...**

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	16. Not. A. Date.

Jim was very careful not to fall asleep this time. He didn't want to wake up and find himself with his head in Sherlock's lap again, nuzzling against him like an attention seeking kitten.

The cab ride was relatively pleasant, actually.  It was like when they were in Jim's office. They teased and irritated one another but both had large smiles, more than happy to be in each other's company.

The more time they spend talking away, the more Jim realised he'd made a huge mistake in not letting Sherlock kiss him for a second time. Maybe it was just because they'd been arguing and Jim was still annoyed about the whole situation at the funfair.

But, hey. People make mistakes. And Jim was very far from being perfect.

Smiling gently, Jim sinks back into the seat so he was more comfortable. Sherlock sends him a sideways smile. This cab ride was definitely less awkward than their last one. Then again, last time they were in a cab together Jim had been acting like the drama queen that he is.

"Molly spoke to me on Friday," Sherlock says, suddenly. He turns his face towards Jim, looking blank.

Jim raises an eyebrow. "About?"

"You." When Jim doesn't say anything, Sherlock continues. He was smiling now too. "She slapped me, saying that whatever I did that made you, and these are her exact words, revert back into your head and block out the world."

Jim just blinks, not sure what to say. It was true, sort of but how could he tell Sherlock that it wasn't like  _that_ without lying?

"I.. Well, yeah. It freaked me out a bit. The whole 'I like you' thing..." Jim has to look away, he doesn't want to see Sherlock's reaction.

Much to Jim's annoyance, he can feel his cheeks heating up in a blush.

Surprisingly, Sherlock just laughs. "It's not that big a deal, is it? That I like you. Of course, I like you. You're funny, you don't just let me get away with everything, and you're pretty cute. Especially in that beanie."

By this point, Jim's cheeks were on fire and he made sure to keep his eyes focused on things outside his window.

A weird feeling rushes through his chest at all the compliments. Especially the one about the beanie he was currently wearing. A big part of him was just screaming  _Sherlock likes your beanie! SHERLOCK likes your BEANIE._ Jim truly loved his clothes and getting someone like Sherlock saying he liked them made him feel all funny inside.

He wanted to tell Sherlock that he liked him too, even though he was annoying and got under his skin more than anyone else he'd ever met. He wanted to say that he found Sherlock funny too and that he was handsome (although, he'd sort of already done that). In the end, Jim just grumbles the words 'shut up' and prays for his blush to go away.

Sherlock laughs again and Jim wants to slap him but doesn't because there's no way he's turning to face Sherlock when he's gone this red from a few sweet words.

Jim's phone beeps then and he's more than thankful for the distraction.

_'Molly said you're going on a date with Sherlock?'_

Jim frowns at the message from Sebastian. For many reasons. The main one being that he had no idea how Molly found out he was going somewhere with Sherlock. Then, obviously, the fact that she thought it was a date (again). Why she told Sebastian was beyond Jim. And let's not forget that no kisses from Sebastian was never a good sign.

**'Not a date. But yeah, we're going to the funfair. xx'**

  
_'Sounds like a date_ _;)_ _xx'_   


**'Whatever. xx'**

Sebastian doesn't reply after that and Jim shrugs, putting his phone away again. Knowing his friend, he was off chasing some girl or guy that was playing hard to get.

When Jim looks up, Sherlock is closer and appears to have been reading the messages over Jim's shoulder. That makes Jim frown even more than not seeing kisses on the end of Sebastian's message.

"It's rude to read over people's shoulder's, you know."

Sherlock shrugs and smiles at him. Their eyes meet and they seem to fall into some kind of staring contest. Jim was waiting for an apology and Sherlock knew that but wanted to be stubborn.

After two minutes (at least, Jim thinks that it couldn't have been much longer than that) Jim speaks up. "Apologise."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow, silently asking if Jim was being serious.

It took a  _lot_ of effort for Jim to not smile as he repeats "Apologise."

"Really?" Sherlock asks, laughing gently and shaking his head.

It was clear that he didn't think Jim was being serious. Never had Jim worked so hard to keep a straight face. He could feel the corner of his mouth started to twitch but luckily Sherlock was still looking at his eyes and Jim manages to press his lips into a straight line before the detective could notice.

"Really."

A few moments pass and Jim can see Sherlock debating. As he narrows his eyes at Jim, one of his curls bounce over his eye and Jim very nearly burst out laughing (not that it was funny).

"Fine..." Sherlock sighs, looking down for a moment like he was an actor getting in character. When he looks back up, his blue/green/grey eyes (Jim needed to figure out the colour) were glistening with forming tears and he looked like someone had just run over his puppy. "Jim... I.. I'm really sorry."

All Jim could do was stare. Sherlock's voice shook and even though he knew that Sherlock was faking, it was just so convincing that he could almost feel himself falling for it and feeling guilty for pressuring Sherlock into it.

"Jesus. You're a great actor," Jim says, breathing out slowly.

Sherlock chuckles and wipes away one of the tears he'd let fall. "Thank you. Helps with interviews."

"What? Do you pretend you knew the victim and start crying to the people who may or may not have information?"

"Pretty much," Sherlock nods, grinning.

"You're evil," Jim states with a laugh, shaking his head as he does.

Sherlock smirks, glancing at Jim from the side. "Pretty much."

After that it didn't take long before they were pulling into the funfair drop off zone once again. Sherlock pays the cabbie before they make their way to the ticket booth. This time, no one hits Jim over the head to drag him away and chain him up. That made him more than happy.

Sherlock pays for their tickets and leads the way into the area with all the ride, walking closer to Jim than needed the whole way. Jim smirks at him and bumps him with his hips, causing the detective to stumble to the side.

He mocks glares at Jim before drifting closer again, obviously not caring for Jim's none too subtle 'Personal Space!' message.

They were both laughing by the time they'd passed all the stalls selling over priced candy. And yes, Jim does mean candy. Around 90% of the stalls were American and when Jim finally spotted one that was selling  _sweets_ he wanted to run up and hug them.

When they do arrive at the fair rides, Sherlock turns to Jim with a raised eyebrow.

"Which first?"

Looking around, Jim felt like a kid in a sweet shop - even though all the sweets were technically behind him. This fair seemed to have it all and Jim just has to stare at everything like an idiot for a few long moments, reading all the signs.

Helter Skelter. Merry-go-round. Ferris Wheel. The Twister. Kissing Booth's. Win a Goldfish. Waltzers.

And that was just  _this_ section. The south section. There was a north, east and west too.

Quickly deciding, Jim grabs Sherlock's arm and drags him towards the Twister. The ride was made up of four arms, which each had four carriages on. Along with the arms spinning, the group of four arms spin too. Jim grins as Sherlock hands over six of their tickets - three per person - and they get seated in a red carriage .

  
_"Ride the Twister! It's the fastest ride at the fair!"_ yells a male's voice from the speaker directly beside Sherlock.

This was going to be great.

When Jim comes off the ride, he was in a fit of giggles. Sherlock stood there, pouting at Jim and rubbing his arm. The ride had certainly been fast. So fast that it sent Jim, who was sat on the inside, hauling into Sherlock's side. Repeatedly. With each twist Jim would bash into Sherlock. Turns out that Sherlock's other arm, not the one Jim continuously hit, was being squished against a bar and now hurt like hell.

Jim just found the whole situation hilarious. Plus, Sherlock's pouty face was rather adorable.

"Stop laughing, James!"

"J-Jim!" corrects the still laughing Jim. By now he was clutching his stomach.

Sherlock storms up to Jim, reminding him of an angry toddler, and takes hold of his shoulders. The detective swings Jim around in a circle twice, slowly getting closer to Jim and managing to stop his laughing - out of confusion more than anything.

Sherlock smirks at the fact his weird technique worked before saying "Laugh at me again, and I may just have to kiss you to shut you up."

"In that case... Maybe I should start laughing at you more often, hey Sher-cock!" Jim winks at the detective before twirling out of Sherlock's reach and practically dancing towards the Waltzers before Sherlock could form a response.

Sherlock catches him up at the Waltzers, smiling at him as he hands over six more tickets for this ride.

Their free to choose where they sit this time and Jim leads Sherlock to the closet free one before they sit down, thighs just touching but other than that they're sitting without touching at all.

"Have you been on these before?" Sherlock asks while they wait for the people who work here to usher more people on and collect their tickets.

Jim nods. "Yeah. Not these ones, though. It was at a different fair."

"Was it on a date?"

"No... Wait. This isn't a date!"

Sherlock raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. The ride begins then, the music starting up and the doughnut shaped platform spinning slowly.

Jim forgets the fact that Sherlock may think this is a date as he looks towards the booth that controls the ride, sat in the O of the doughnut platform. Each waltzer was on a circular track of sorts that the wheels of the waltzers stayed on.

Their seat or rather their 'waltzer' wasn't so much spinning as rocking back and forth. Jim faces Sherlock again and makes a face, sad that it wasn't going as fast as some of the others around them. He'd learnt from years of going to fairs with his parents that this was a ride where you just had to get lucky.

Suddenly their waltzer jerks and Jim looks behind him to see one of the ride attendants holding the back of the head rest. Jim frowns, not realising what he was doing.

It all became clear at their waltzer went over the next rise in the platform. The attendant grips the headrest harder and gives a great push as they go over the rise, sending the waltzer spinning like crazy.

Jim half laughs, half cheers as he's pushed by the force and sent closer to Sherlock. They were touching at as many points two people sat side by side could be now. Jim can feel colour rising to his cheeks as he looks up to find Sherlock is looking at him with a smile.

If he thought his cheeks were red in the cab, it was nothing compared to how red he went as he heard the lyrics being sung from the speakers as his and Sherlock's eyes lock together:  _"Will you be mine tonight?"_  


They couldn't seem to look away from each other. The waltzer was starting to slow down and it made it easier for Sherlock to move closer of his own accord, bringing a hand to Jim's cheek.

"Can I--"

"Yeah.." Jim sighs the word.

He's just about to duck down and capture Jim's lips with his own when the attendant comes back, just before a rise in the platform and spins them so their sent crashing together again, Sherlock's hand falling as Jim's forehead hits Sherlock's.

They both wince, laughing as they do. The two back away as much as they can while spinning and just smile at each other as the ride comes to an end.

As they climb out, Jim hears more lyrics from the song the same moment Sherlock chooses to look back at him  _"You kill, kill me, kill me. Please don't stop."_  


Yeah. Jim definitely made a mistake in not letting Sherlock kiss him again.

 


	17. Blushes and kisses.

Even though Sherlock brought a pile of them, the tickets where gone by the time they'd moved into the North section. Jim was a bit disappointed that they didn't manage to get through all the sections but three out of four wasn't too bad, he supposed. Besides, if Sherlock annoys him again, he can just demand that the funfair be an apology for whatever he does - because, no doubt, there'd be a time Sherlock pissed Jim off.

Now that the tickets were gone, they find themselves walking back through the 'candy' stalls and even though Jim wanted to tell all the stall owners that they're called sweets here, he does indulge and buy an arm full of the various things they had on sale.

He'd had a great time tonight and had this been a date, it would have been the best date of his life.

Despite being given permission to do so on the Waltzers, Sherlock hadn't tried to kiss Jim again. Much to his annoyance. Although, the flirting - or teasing or whatever you want to call it - had gradually increased throughout the evening.

Jim was more than sad when the time came for them to climb back into a cab for the long journey home. The cab ride was probably an hour or two (Jim never had been good with time) and it had to nearing eleven o'clock now. So Jim was fairly sure that if he allowed himself to lean into Sherlock like he very much wanted to, he'd end up falling asleep.

Sherlock's arm somehow ends up around Jim's shoulder and instead of resisting it, Jim snuggles closer and closes his eyes. His temple rested comfortably against Sherlock's shoulder and his nose pressed against Sherlock's blazer. Jim may or may not have sniffed and like what he smelt and snuggled closer again but even if he did, you have no way to prove it and so he will deny it.

It was odd, really. Not long ago, Jim would have sat as far away from the detective as possible but now... now he curling against him like a kitten and absolutely loving it.

Funny how things change like a switch being flipped.

Inevitably, Jim falls into a light slumber as Sherlock's fingers stroke through his hair. Before he drifts off, Jim feels a pair of lips press to his forehead and he prays that's not the only kiss he gets tonight. A nice goodbye kiss outside his flat would be perfect.

Jesus. He hadn't even kissed the guy yet and he was already obsessed with his kisses.

There must be something wrong with him...

This time when Jim wakes up in the cab, it's to Sherlock gently shaking him and softly whispering that they were at Jim's flat now so he needed to wake up.

Whining, Jim pulls Sherlock close again, cuddling him. "Sleeping."

Sherlock chuckles softly before he forces him to sit up and shakes him harder this time.

Jim shoves him away, awake - well, more awake - now. "Jesus. Okay. Stop. I'm awake. Look, my eyes are opening and I'm getting out the cab..."

He climbs out as he says he is and closes the door, quickly rushing around the car to the pavement despite the lack of cars. Really, it would have been smarter to wait for Sherlock to get out so he could get out straight onto the pavement and avoid the possibility of becoming road kill.

Sherlock pays and Jim thanks the cab driver. It's not until the cabbie drives off that Jim realises that was Sherlock's ride home.

"And how do you plan to get home?" Jim asks, raising both eyebrow as they head towards the building entrance.

"Not inviting me in for tea?" Sherlock asks and Jim can hear the smirk.

He smiles too, willing to play this little game.

"Nope. I'm going to bed," Jim shakes his head, unable to not chuckle a little.

"Bit forward, James. It's only our first date," teases the detective.

That makes Jim turn fifty shades of red for numerous reasons (mainly the suggestive nature of it) and he falls quiet, embarrassed that he was blushing so much. He doesn't even corrects Sherlock about his name.

Jim doesn't speak, not trusting himself to not be squeaky. Sherlock puts a hand on Jim's shoulder when they reach the elevator, stopping him in his track before he presses the button. Not meaning to, Jim tenses under the touch. He didn't want to turn around reveal to Sherlock how red he'd gone from that one moment. He could feel his cheeks burning, for Christ's sake.

"I was joking. I didn't mean..." Sherlock trails off, sounding worrying.

Jim's chest hurts oddly at the thought of Sherlock being so worried about possibly upsetting him.

"I know you were," Jim answers quietly. "I just.. It's fine. Don't panic."

From behind him, he can practically feel Sherlock's frown. "Your voice is off... What's wrong?"

Sherlock sounded so concerned, making the feeling in Jim's chest ache and throb that little bit more.

"I'm fine!" Jim insists, all but punching the button for the elevator.

Sherlock's obviously not convinced. "Why won't you look at me?"

What the hell was Jim meant to say to that? 'Oh, you know, just completely embarrassed which is stupid considering a lot of things but still very true,' or maybe he'd just say 'You turned me into a tomato'.

"Just shut up, okay?" Jim replies, tone harsher than he meant for it to be as he slides into the elevator.

As he does, he subtly brings a hand to his face and rubs his cheeks - as if that would somehow make the colour that he was sure was still there disappear. Jim wished.

He turns his face so he's looking down and to the side. A moment after he does, Jim feels fingers pulling his chin the opposite direction. At first, he tried to resist but stops when it begins to hurt and faces Sherlock, his skin turning red all over again when he faces Sherlock.

The detective smirks at him. "You're blushing..."

"Shut up!" Jim snaps, glaring at the other man.

Sherlock's fingers move from Jim's jaw to his cheek, smirk still in place as his thumb moves gently over a small section on Jim's skin. He can't help but press into the touch, smiling.

His heart was beating just that bit faster, knowing what this was a run up to.

Sherlock's smirk fades into a soft small smile as his eyes, which looked a grey/blue right now - which, when he thought about it, was one of Jim's favourites. He liked Sherlock's eyes all the time by he liked this colouring to them the best.

_C'mon then. Kiss me, you idiot._

Jim was about to open his mouth and speaks when Sherlock parts his lips, words forming but Jim stops him, speaking over the question he knew was coming.

"I swear, if you ask again, I'm going to slap you and it will be painf- mmmph!"

Jim's lips can't form anymore words because in the next second, Sherlock's own lips are covering his own in a soft, chaste kiss. Jim smiles against Sherlock's mouth for half a heartbeat before he pushes himself up and forward, kissing back as good as he was getting. The action made the chaste kiss becoming... less chaste.

Jim's hands find themselves in Sherlock's hair, gripping it tighter than was necessary but it seemed to only urge Sherlock on so Jim guessed it was fine. Both of Sherlock's arm were around Jim's waist, holding him as close as possible as their lips move together.

After a brief mental debate, Jim parts his lips and gently bites on Sherlock's lower lip - pulling it between his own and sucking meekly. Following his lead, Sherlock also parts his lips and guides Jim's tongue into his own mouth. Both taking control and allowing Jim to choose where this went.

Not that it was possible, Jim tries to press closer to Sherlock, tugging on his curls and moving his tongue against Sherlock's. God knows where that shyness went but frankly he was happy to see the back of it. Sherlock's hands drift a little lower, one palm resting just a little lower on Jim's lower back than was appropriate.

Jim didn't mind. Had his hands not been in Sherlock's hair, they'd most likely be on that lovely round arse.

Both of them were really getting into it and Sherlock had just pushed Jim against the elevator wall when they came to a stop and the doors slide open, revealing the empty corridor.

Automatically, the two pulls away from the kiss. Sherlock arms stay around Jim though and Jim's fingers stay gripping Sherlock's hair.

With a grin, Jim looks to Sherlock. "Coming in for tea?"

"Thought you wanted to go to bed?" Sherlock teases, squeezing Jim's waist.

With a small chuckle (and a blush) Jim shoves Sherlock back. "Shut up."

Laughing, Sherlock follows Jim out of the elevator and down the corridor to his flat. Jim glances back at him, smiling when he sees Sherlock smiling. Jim didn't really know what to say, if anything. Just a few seconds ago they were.. Well, snogging like a pair of horny teenagers, to be blunt, and now they're going into the flat for tea.

It seemed a bit backwards to Jim but he hardly surprised him, considering this was Sherlock that he was talking about.

They walk through the living room, taking off their coats and shoes as they did, before they move into the kitchen. Jim can feel Sherlock's eyes on him and he tries not to blush again.

What happened to the Jim that couldn't stand to be in the same room as Sherlock?

As he boils the kettle, Jim feels arms sneak around his waist again and he smiles, leaning back into Sherlock. The long arms around his waist squeeze briefly and he feels Sherlock's chin on his shoulder. Jim definitely liked this side to Sherlock.

 


	18. Baby, Come Back,

It had been almost a month since that night Sherlock had come in for tea - and that was all he got that night - and Jim had seen a lot more of Sherlock since (even though he saw him often beforehand). Jim wasn't too sure what they were. He supposes they were 'fooling around' or whatever people called it now.

Many of their evenings pasted in cuddles and kisses on Jim's sofa, watching some of Jim's favourite movies. Or if not a movie, Jim would be on his computer with Sherlock's arms around him. He didn't mind so much that Sherlock was reading over his shoulder and Jim just found the little grunts Sherlock made when Jim flirted with Don absolutely adorable.

If others saw them, they'd assume they were a couple. Maybe they were a couple. Jim wasn't sure. Surely, to be a couple there needs to be some kind of discussion about what you are, right?

Dating was probably what Jim would categorise it as. Not friends but not quite in a relationship. Just having fun. Not that they'd... gone to bed together yet. And yes, Jim was sure that sentence required the 'yet'. Jim wouldn't sleep with Sherlock until he was sure what this was, that it was serious. He  _wanted_ it to be serious.

Even though he wasn't sure what the situation was, Jim was happy.

Well. At this exact moment he wasn't happy, he was the completely opposite of happy right now. But in terms of their relationship, Jim was happy.

Anyway, the reason Jim was currently so unhappy - devastated, distraught, terrified, depressed, grim - was simple. It was also the same reason his flat currently looked like World War Three had began and the first bomb had hit here.

He couldn't find his laptop.

Jim hadn't been this close to crying since his grandma died. In fact, he might even be closer to crying now than he was at her funeral and as terrible as Jim feels about that, he's too worried about his laptop to care.

Looking around his flat, Jim feels his eyes water again. He feels like bawling. That laptop was his best friend -  _sorry Sebastian_  - and now it was gone. He can't understand it. One minute he was standing in a sparkling flat (Sherlock was due to arrive any minute now) and the next he was reaching for his laptop to check his emails... only to find that his beloved machine wasn't sat on his desk like it usually was.

Now caring that his kinda-sorta-boyfriend was about to turn up, Jim slumps and falls to his knees in the middle of his living room. He looks around, praying to see that familiar shine. When he doesn't, he can't stop it, tears begin to leak out of his eyes despite the will power he was using to try and keep them in.

"Oh, God... Where is it?" Jim mumbles to himself.

There's a knock at the door then and Jim barely has the strength to lift himself up and wipe his eyes before shuffling over to open the door. Sherlock has a large grin on his face but it falls the second he sees the look of utter misery on Jim's face.

Sherlock moves into the flat and closes the door. Then he puts both hands on Jim's shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. Sherlock does this a lot when Jim seems moody. It was so Jim couldn't escape when Sherlock asks if he's okay.

"James, what's the matter?"

Jim doesn't say a word and he just falls forward, into Sherlock's arms and chest. Sherlock seems hesitant but still holds Jim close and shushes him. Jim whimpers lightly and clutches Sherlock's jacket, fighting the urge to start bawling.

He was a grown man, for Christ's sake, he should no be crying over a lost laptop.

"Tell me what's wrong?" Sherlock says, voice soft as he pets Jim's hair.

"I..." Jim sniffles, snuggling closer. "I lost it.. Oh my God, how the fuck did I lose it? I'm so stupid..."

Sherlock stays quiet for a moment and Jim almost lifts his head to see if Sherlock had deduced what he lost and thought he was a total baby for crying over it when Sherlock speaks.

"Is that why your flat looks like a mess? What have you lost? Must be important."

Jim's about to reply 'I lost my baby' when he remembers that only Molly and Sebastian are aware Jim calls his laptop his baby. Sebastian, when he found out, had simply rolled his eyes whereas Molly had looked so shocked to hear that Jim honestly loved this machine so much he called it 'baby'.

"My laptop..." Jim finally looks up at Sherlock.

He wanted to see if Sherlock thought he was a completely weirdo for getting so upset about this. To his surprise, Sherlock had a small amused smile on his face. Jim doesn't know what he wants more: to slap Sherlock for being amused by thus or to hug him for not thinking he's a complete loon.

"Really? You're nearly crying because of a laptop?" Sherlock laughs.

Jim shoves Sherlock back with all the force he can muster before turning and stalking back to his bedroom to search for his laptop again. He can still hear Sherlock laughing in the background and he hates the way that hurts.

Even Sherlock didn't seem to understand...

Not expecting or wanting help from the stupid detective, Jim falls to the floor and starts to pull boxes from under his bed. It's the one place he hasn't looked - excluding the airing cupboard that was too high for him to reach - because he hadn't so much as glanced at a thing under here for almost a year.

Before long, Jim had pulled every single thing from under his bed and laid it out over the floor. About half through, Sherlock had brought Jim tea and tried to apologise but Jim had ignored him and continued as though no one was in the flat but himself (he did drink the tea when Sherlock went back to the living room, though).

The laptop - his beautiful brilliant baby - wasn't under the bed.

Jim stands up and heads back into his living room. Sherlock stands and looks at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." Sherlock was practically pleading with him. Begging for forgive. Through his tone anyway. He sounded broken.

Jim continues to ignore him and simply grabs his desk chair. If he wasn't so stubborn, he'd ask Sherlock to climb on the little stool and look in the airing cupboard but he was stubborn so now he was going to risk breaking his neck while standing on a spiny chair.

Sherlock follows him into the hallway and frowns when he sees Jim pushing the chair below the airing cupboard.

"You'll hurt yourself. Let me do it."

Still ignoring Sherlock, Jim climbs onto the chair on his knees. Swallowing, Jim takes hold of the both armrests and slowly starts to stand up. Even though Jim wasn't terribly shorter than Sherlock, the stool that Sherlock would be able to use to see into the airing cupboard only allowing Jim a peek into the cupboard.

The chair wobbles, threatening to spin fully whole Jim tries to keep himself balanced. If it does, Jim decides, he's going to jump and make sure he lands on Sherlock.

Jim looks up then and opens one of the airing cupboards doors. He holds onto the edge where the wall ended and the door would begin had Jim not moved it. That helps keep his balance.

"James.." Sherlock trails off.

"Shut up, Sherlock" Jim spits the words because yes, he was upset about his laptop and angry at Sherlock for laughing at him and for fuck sake it was hard enough to balance on a spiny chair without Sherlock in the background sounding like an old granny that was scared of letting her twenty year old grandson handle paper scissors.

Jim pushes on his tiptoes so he can see better. It's unlikely his laptop is here anyway. But he had to -

"What the fuck?!" Jim shouts the words when he sees what sat in the airing cupboard.

His laptop (unharmed, thankfully) with a sticky note on it. A green sticky note. Exactly like that one he found on his shiny new computers at Bart's all that time ago.

Within a second, Jim turns to glare at Sherlock but the man was gone. Not caring if he fell or hurt himself, Jim quickly jumps off the spiny chair and heads into the living room. He picks up the TV remote as he passes the table. The kettle is bubbling in the background and Jim heads towards the kitchen to see Sherlock making tea.

"Is that your idea of a joke?" Jim asks, tone revealing little.

Sherlock turns and he has a huge fucking shit-eating grin on his face. Jim doesn't hesitate, he brings his arm back and launches the TV remote straight at Sherlock's stupid big head. The detective flinches and hisses in pain, gripping his forehead. Jim has a flash of guilt before the anger came flooded back.

"I swear to God, Sherlock. If you ever mess with any of my computers or even touch my baby again, I will make sure that no one finds your body after I brutally murder you." Jim had never been so serious.

Sherlock looks confused and Jim sighs because he knows that nobody ever gets it.

"Oh" Jim says "and because of this, you're taking me to that funfair again tomorrow and you're going to be the best god damn date of my life to make up for this."

Sherlock nods, still looking confused.

Jim turns and heads again into the other room to fetch his laptop and spend the rest of the evening ignoring Sherlock and flirting with Don just to piss him off.

Half an hour later, Sherlock sits on the sofa beside Jim. He puts an arm around Jim's shoulders and pulls him a little closer. Jim doesn't resist but he still ignores Sherlock, typing a message to Don that had too many x's and o's for Sherlock's liking.

"Jim, I'm sorry..." He sounded ten times more apologetic than he did earlier.

"Shut up."

"Okay," Sherlock nods, seeming happy that he at least got a response.

A few hours later, Sherlock gets up and leaves the flat without a word. Jim looks at the door after it closes, feeling stupid for how horrid he acted towards Sherlock - who was clearly very sorry.

Jim signs off his laptop and sits for a while, contemplating what to do.

In the end, he texts Sherlock.

'Sorry for being a bitch xx'

_'Don't be. I should have realised you wouldn't find it funny x'_

Jim smiles. Sherlock rarely used kisses.

'So... funfair tomorrow? xx'

_'Of course. I'll pick you up around midday x'_

'Great, I'll see you tomorrow. Night xx'

_'Goodnight, James xx'_

Jim sighs in contentment, glad that they'd patched things up a bit. He'd make sure for certain tomorrow that they were okay and even though he'd told Sherlock it was a way for him to apologise, Jim would apologise too.

Allowing himself a small smile, Jim heads to bed.

The next day, they went to the funfair again just as they said they would, fully exploring the one section they hadn't got to before. It was a great evening and made up for the heartache Sherlock put Jim through.

There had also been a few very steamy kisses at the top of the Ferris Wheel and Sherlock had even won Jim a large blue teddy bear on the shooting game/booth. The bear now sat on a chair - yep, it was so big it needed a chair - in the corner of Jim's bedroom.

Sherlock had stayed over at Jim's flat for the first time that night and Jim made him sleep on the sofa - which made Sherlock give a vulgar comment about Sebastian sleeping in Jim's bed which made Jim throw the remote control at him again.


	19. Doubts.

Things were going good, despite all the flying TV controls and rude comments from a certain detective.

Jim smiles as he sits down beside Molly in Cindy's. Molly was talking about her cat, Midnight, telling Jim about the way he'd ripped _another_ teddy to shreds when she stops and just stares at Jim with this small proud grin.

Raising an eyebrow, Jim questions the grinning girl. "What?"

"You."

"No shit," Jim fakes surprise before leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Seriously, what about me?"

Molly pauses briefly before she speaks. "He really makes you happy, doesn't he? Despite the way you two idiots acted before."

Jim can feel himself blushing but he ignores it in the hope that Molly would follow his lead and do the same. She does, thankfully. Molly waits patiently for Jim to form an answer.

"I..." Jim stops.

"Yeah. He does... Even if he is a bloody twat eighty percent of the time."

Molly smiles at him and Jim get the feeling that she's the proud friend in the movie who doesn't seem that important but has been there the whole time, rooting for the two main characters to open their eyes and get together.

"Refill?" Jim asks, so he can stop comparing his life to a movie (it's always the chick flicks... or predictable horror movies).

Molly nods and Jim picks up both of their cups, strolling to the near empty counter. There was one or two students, bunking no doubt, browsing the cakes and fizzy pop but that was it.

"Hey, Jim," Alex greets him with his usual large smile that screamed 'I get paid to be friendly'.

"Hi. The same again, please."

"And a black coffee, two sugars," Sherlock speaks from behind Jim.

Jim rolls his eyes, not even bothered that Sherlock had turned up uninvited once again. Sherlock laughs and reaches out to briefly squeeze Jim's upper arm before he wonders towards their table. Jim glares at him over his shoulder - maybe taken a moment to look at the way Sherlock's snug trouser fit around his perfectly shaped arse - but nods to Alex to confirm the order.

Jim waits, as he always does, for their orders.

A few minutes pass, then a few more do, and then a few more do. And then, guess what? A few more pass.

Most of the time, Jim was a patient person but the length of time he'd been standing here was getting a tad ridiculous. Peering over the counter, Jim raises an eyebrow at Alex.

The young boy was standing in front of the coffee machine, cup in hand and ready to make a sweet black drink for a certain detective. Except, he was just standing there. His eyes were fixed on the cup but Jim could tell he wasn't seeing it.

"You alright there? You look... I dunno.. worried. Coffee machine won't bite you, you know. Sherlock might if he doesn't get his coffee, though," Jim laughs. Alex doesn't react, just continues to stare at the coffee machine. "Alex? Dude, you okay?"

Alex is snapped out of the trance when Jim calls his name and he smiles before quickly making the coffee for Sherlock and placing it on the tray. Jim and Molly's orders follow in almost no time.

Jim frowns. "You okay? You were a bit out of there..."

"Yeah. Sorry." Alex gives a feeble smile.

"I know I'm just some guy that you make coffee for but seriously, that was scary. Sure nothing's wrong?"

Alex blushes and nods. "I'm fine. Thanks for worrying, though."

Jim nods back and picks up their tray. He smiles at Alex once more. "Alright. Whatever it is, you'll be fine."

The blush on Alex's cheeks seems to consume his face then and he nods again. Jim feels like there's a lot of nodding going on. Jim makes sure he has a grip on the tray before he turns away from Alex and starts to head back to their table, but before he gets top far Alex calls out.

"J-Jim!"

Jim swallows thickly, not liking the signs he was picking up. Blushing, nervousness, the way he'd meet Jim's eyes a tad longer than appropriate.

It all shouted crush to Jim. He prayed he was wrong.

He turns back to Alex and smiles a little. "Yep?"

"You... I mean. Are you... single?" Alex ask, looking around to make sure no one could hear him. It was adorable how nervous and shy he seemed right now.

"I... Alex, you're like twenty-one. Bit young for a thirty-four year old man, don't you think?" Jim hopes that's a valid reason for why Alex shouldn't be doing this.

Jim wasn't ready to put labels on what he and Sherlock were, so for now he'd play the age card with this. He didn't really think much of the age difference but if it got him out this...

"I'm twenty-six, actually." Alex admits.

"Jesus, dude. You look so young!" Jim's eyebrows fly up to mingle with his hair, no hiding his shock.

Alex chuckles, relaxing a bit. "And it's things like that, calling me 'dude', that make me thinks you're younger than you are."

  
_Stop pointing out reasons we'd be a decent couple,_ Jim thinks bitterly, resisting the urge to glare.

"Alex... Sorry. I'm sort of seeing someone" Jim really didn't mean to phrase that as a question. He meant to sound confident and proud, not unsure and confused.

"Sort of?" Alex asks.

Jim bites his lip. He couldn't be harsh with Alex, he was such a sweet boy and had Jim not already been confused about what he and Sherlock were then he wouldn't even consider snapping at this boy.

"Well, yeah. Sort of. We just haven't really spoken about what we are... Doesn't feel right to assume we're something we're not so I'm not going say much about it until we talk..." Jim pauses. "Do I sound crazy?"

Alex nods with a frown before he shakes his head, smiling softly. "No. Well... A little. I dunno. Isn't it nice that you've just found yourself in a relationship and not had to wait for some question before you act on your feelings?"

Jim considers that. He did like the way things were. They were having fun, getting along and Jim was happy. Sherlock made him happy without that conversation.

"I see what you mean... But what if he's not as serious about this? Or if he's more serious about this than I am? See, that conversation can really help the relationship. It's better than misunderstanding. For all I know, he's just in this for sex or to steal all my socks because he's really some sock perv... _or_ he could he considering popping the question as we speak..." Over the top, yes, but Jim's point was clear.

Alex giggles, trying to cover it with his hand but failing miserably. "Okay, now you sound crazy. Proper loony. But if you really want that conversation, and I'm sure you'll be disappointed because you probably already know what he wants from you by the way he acts, you should just start it yourself."

Jim frowns, not saying a word.

Alex's eyes light up in realisation. "Oh... I get it. You're worried that he's less invested in it?"

"No" Jim denies quickly. Too quickly.

With a sad smile, the man behind the counter shakes his head. "Talk to him."

Jim doesn't reply, just picks up the tray again and turns his back to Alex, heading for the table where Sherlock and Molly sat.

When Jim sits down beside Sherlock, the detective places an arm around this shoulders. Without thinking, Jim shakes the arm off with a muffled noise of discomfort. Sherlock frowns, looking hurt. Jim shakes his head, showing he didn't mean it and squeezes Sherlock's hand briefly. He didn't want to push Sherlock away just because he wanted to think.

Did he have worries that Sherlock liked him less? He hadn't even really considered to what extent he liked Sherlock, never mind how much Sherlock liked him. Maybe wasn't it then... The other way round, perhaps?

Sherlock certainly had proved that he really likes Jim, enough to buy him coffee and take him on dates and buy him new computers. He'd told Jim he likes him and he always seemed to want Jim around. Plus, it was no secret that Sherlock was ready for this to go further... like, into the bedroom.

Yet Jim hadn't really done anything to suggest he feels the same except all the kisses and such. He hadn't even told Sherlock he likes him, and he always made Sherlock sleep on the sofa or told him to go home before it got too late.

Really, if anyone should be having doubts, it's Sherlock.

As far as Jim could tell, though, Sherlock was more than willing to wait until Jim was ready. He'd given all the control over this thing of theirs to Jim. And that wasn't right; Sherlock needed that control as much as Jim.

Anyway, if they were currently 'together' then they'd only been together for a little over a month.

Surely it was too early to have doubts.


	20. Idiot!

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**Starting Up....**

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**Loading...**

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_Sign In. Hotmail._

Inbox (2)

Don Davids

Um, WHY YOUR BUTT NOT O...

Molly Hooper

Midnight did is again. The pic...

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To: _EMoriarty110@gmail.co.uk_  


Subject: Mother! Prepare the spare room!

I know it's been a lot longer than I promised, but I'm coming down to visit this weekend! I'll be there around lunch time on Saturday.

Bit sudden, I know. Sorry.

See you on Saturday.

Love you xxx

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**Logging off...**

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**Shutting Down...**

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Closing the laptop, Jim picks it up and carefully slides it into it's case. After zipping the case up and adjusting the strap, Jim places it by his bedroom door - not that he's likely to forget it, but still.

Then, he turned back to his suitcase and double checks everything he might need is there. Tops, jeans, underwear, beanies, a suit, contact lenses (and glasses just in case), phone charger and toiletries that he was able to pack now.

Happy that he wouldn't arrive and have forgotten anything major, Jim closes the top of the suitcase before laying it flat beside his laptop case.

Smiling to himself - he can't help it, he's a mummy's boy - Jim practically skips back into the living room, plopping down beside Sherlock who was just sat on the sofa reading some book that Jim didn't recognise as his own but knew Sherlock didn't arrive with.

"Hey," Jim grins at his kinda-sorta-boyfriend.

Sherlock returns the smile and puts the book down, pulling Jim into a tight hug as he buries his face in Jim's neck. While taken aback by the hug, Jim wraps his arms around the skinny detective and squeezes him.

He was only going for the weekend but they'd been spending so much time together lately that a few days apart seemed like a ridiculously long time.

When Sherlock pulls back, Jim raises an eyebrow.

"What was that for?" He asks, hand running down Sherlock's arm and squeezing.

"Well, you're going away for the weekend and..." Sherlock glances at the clock "You normally kick me out around now."

Jim pauses. They hadn't talked about this before.

Which was exactly Jim's issue - they didn't talk.

Swallowing, Jim tries to think of a response that wouldn't trigger another one of their stupid arguments. It was far too easy for them to get annoyed at each other, even if it never was serious and they made up quickly enough. Still, Jim would like to discuss this without wanting to slap Sherlock.

"You can stay if you like.." Jim trails off, speaking softly. Almost too softly, like you would an upset child. Oh God, he sounded like he was babying Sherlock...

The way Sherlock moves away from Jim is automatic. He looks down at the floor with a painful looking smile. "As much as I like being here with you, I don't think my back would enjoy another night on your sofa."

Sherlock sounded like he was trying to joke, but failing as the pain flickered through his voice and sent the pitch off here and there.

Jim wasn't sure whether he was furious or guilty.

Guilty because he didn't want Sherlock in any kind of pain - since clearly more than his back was being hurt by the set up.

But Jim was also angry. So angry because it wasn't, in any fucking universe, for Sherlock to decide when Jim was ready to let Sherlock sleep beside him in his bed.

And so fucking what if Jim let his  _best friend_ sleep in the same bed as him? That's what friends do!

So Sherlock has no bloody reason or right to be angry about this or jealous of Sebastian (which it was clear that he was, ever since that comment the first time).

"Sherlock," Jim starts but then stops and reminds himself; he doesn't want to argue. "I.. Is it that big a deal? I mean, you're obviously pissed about this..."

Sherlock stares.

Jim waits.

Nothing.

"What?" He can't help snapping the word, already getting annoyed with Sherlock's staring and unresponsiveness.

Sherlock finally looks away, murmuring the words "I don't want to argue about this."

"Neither do I," Jim says, voice soft again. " _But_ I do want to talk."  _About so many fucking things..._  


"Fine," Sherlock huffs the word.

Jim waits, again.

Again, nothing.

Gritting his teeth and taking a short breath, Jim reminds himself for the millionth time that month that Sherlock doesn't mean to be so annoying, it's just the way he is.

"Tell me what's up, Sherlock," Jim says it with an odd tone, like a weird mix between patient and fed up.

Sherlock raises his eyes to Jim's again, looking nervous.. or maybe scared. Jim doesn't know. To be encouraging, Jim gives small smile. That seems to convince Sherlock because he nods and sucks in a breath.

"It's not the fact you won't let me sleep in your bed, I don't mind if it takes you months to be ready to sleep beside me. That's fine. It's just... every time you put me on the sofa, I can't help but remember the way you and Sebastian were so damn comfortable with being in the same bed. I hate you've slept beside him but not me. So yes, as you already know, I'm jealous and angry and very damn jealous."

Jim almost laughs at the pout on Sherlock's face - but the guilt and the pain of having hurt Sherlock squishes that amusement in seconds.

Nodding slowly, Jim takes a moment to just consider his response.

He'd expected Sherlock to say something like that, about how it wasn't the fact he wasn't allowed to sleep with Jim but it was the fact that Sebastian was allowed.

It's different, though. Sherlock and Sebastian are completely different people to Jim. Sebastian is his best friend. Sherlock is his... kinda-sorta-boyfriend.

He doesn't know what to say.

Turns out, he doesn't need to because Sherlock reaches out, takes hold of Jim's left hand and squeezes.

"W.. What's bothering you then?"

Jim shakes his head, swallows, shrugs. "Nothing. I'm just... not ready for that yet"

  
_IDIOT!_ Jim's inner voice screams at him, knowing that had been the perfect t start that conversation about what they are that Jim seemed to want so damn much. Perfect chance to sort out any issues he has with their relationship and he.. he shrugs.

_Idiot. Just.. You fucking idiot._

Jim couldn't agree with his inner voice more.

Standing, Sherlock smiles at Jim and leans down to press a brief kiss to Jim's unresponsive lips. Sherlock's lips were so soft, Jim had teased him once saying that he must use some girly lip balm. By even if he did, Jim would want him to keep using it because God, those lips...

"I'll see you Monday" Sherlock whispers the words into his ear and sort of nuzzles against him before breaking away and heading over to the coat rank.

Jim nods to the words, despite Sherlock having his back turned, and watches as the detective gracefully dons his coat and shoes before leaving with one last smile sent Jim's way.

"Idiot," Jim whispers the word to himself, shaking his head and slouching.

 


	21. Serious.

That night, Jim has trouble sleeping. He tosses and turns, curling the blanket around his legs so tight he has to roll the other way just to make sure he doesn't cut off any circulation.

He's mentally cursing and calling himself names the whole time, feeling terrible for the way he lied to Sherlock. He should have told him about it, he asked. He wanted to know. And all Jim did was shrug!

It's 3am when Jim gives up on the notion of a goodnights sleep - or sleep at all, really - and slides out of bed, leaving the covers and pillows looking like a toddler had a temper tantrum.

He makes tea and then sits on the sofa, scrolling through his phone just to keep himself business. He thinks he's on Facebook, but can't tell without his contacts in or glasses on. It's blue. He can tell that much. Maybe Tumblr, if not Facebook.

It doesn't matter, anyway.

Tea and body drained, sleeping is somewhat forced upon Him and he doesn't even realise that he's fallen asleep on the sofa at an awkward angle until his alarm blares from his bedroom some five hours later and cause him to sit up sharply, neck aching.

"Oww..." He groans, rubbing his neck.

He doesn't feel up to go in to see his mum now...But he should and has to. It'll probably put him in a better mood anyway.

With a great sigh, Jim forces his body into action and heads for the bathroom. As if on autopilot, Jim turns the shower on, holds a hand under and nods at the temperature.  Jim quickly strips his clothes and dumps them in the near empty wash basket.

Climbing into the shower, he begins his morning routine and prepares himself for the journey out of London and into the area his mother lives. It wasn't too far, just over an hour journey by train. Sadly, his mother had sold their home in Ireland some years ago and moved closer to her 'baby boy'.

Before Jim even realises it, he's dressed himself in a snug pair of jeans and a loose red tee, has his suitcase sat beside him and is waiting on the platform in King's Cross for the train. It seems like he'd blinked and the first ten minutes of travelling was over.

Jim scrolled through his phone aimlessly, glancing at the train information. He had seven minutes until his train would arrive and at half past the hour, the train would leave the station and arrive in his mother's town in exactly an hour.

Trains weren't his cup of tea. Too many people.

He thanked any God that may exist when he climbed onto the train and it was practically void of humans. He quickly settles in a seat by the window, stuffing headphones in his ears and staring blankly out the window. He soon finds himself leaning against the window, eyes drooping.

He doesn't exactly sleep as the train makes it's way south. It's more of a daydream. He's not quite asleep but not fully there either. Jim does remove one headphone, however, listening to the announces so he knew where they were - his stop was the end of the line, anyway.

Thankfully, even as more passengers get on, no one occupies the seat beside Jim and he continues to listen to his music and stare out the window, mood slowly brightening.

An hour later, Jim finds himself stepping off the train and on to the station platform. As soon as he does, he hears a gasp/shout of his name and looks in the direction of the barriers to see his mother and father behind them, his mother waving frantically.

His mother was a short woman and her dark hair, which only had a few grey hairs among them, was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Her clothes were casual too, a baby pink blouse and blue flannel jeans that had splash of paint on that just didn't seem to wash out. Her eyes are a murky green colour but they still light up at the first sight of her son.

His father was short in terms of the average height for a male his age but he was still a head and a half taller than Jim's mother. He too wore jeans - not a splash of paint in sight on his - and had on a polo shirt. His hair was a lighter shade of brown than Jim's mother and was more grey than brown now. He'd left it a mess on top of his head but it suited, Jim guessed. His eyes were an exact replica of Jim's - or rather, Jim's were an exact replica of his.

God, he'd missed them.

Smiling, Jim waves back before he rushes towards them and feeds the barrier his train ticket. Not even a second after he's through the barrier, Jim is brought into a bone crushing hug by his mum. Laughing, Jim hugs back.

Only a moment after his mum releases him, Jim is pulled into a quick sideways hug from his hair and he gets a kiss pressed to the top of his head like you'd see a father to his twelve year old son - not his thirty four year old.

You're never too old for embarrassing public cuddles with your dad.

"We missed ya, lad," beams the older man.

"I've missed you too," Jim smiles, looking at them both in turn.

His mother hugs him fiercely once more before she starts babbling about this and that and how Jim really shouldn't stay away so long because she's his mum and she worries. As she does ramble on, Jim and his parents climb the stairs off of the platform and head through the nearby town centre to gain access to the car park. Jim's mother is still rambling on about this and that when they climb in the car and Jim exchanges a brief look with his father, earning them clips around the ear from the ever charming Elizabeth Moriarty.

Walking into his childhood home was always a mixed experience for Jim. He loved being home and loved his parents, but loving them so much meant he missed them greatly and that always got Jim.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd always been scared on the real word when he was growing up. But look at him now, getting chained to floors and practising the fine art of remote control archery.

It's no surprise to any of them when Jim ends up in his mother's art room, apron on and converse in the hallway far away from the paint. He's armed with a paintbrush and has his glasses on (his mum hated the contacts), mother by his side as she looks at the large blank canvas in front of them.

Picking up a cup that had the words 'Save me, Barry!' on, Jim sips his tea and watches as his mother tries to decide what she wanted to paint. In Hindsight, Jim should have picked his clothes more carefully because, really, he knew he'd end up here.

"There's.. a guy." Jim starts, not to sure what made him say. Oh, well. "His name's Sherlock..."

"Oh..." replies Jim's mother who seemed to be half listening. "We'll do a land space. The daffodil field back in Ireland, remember it?" As she speaks, she moves to her paint covered desk and produces a photo of a five-year-old Jim laying in the sunshine in a field full of bright daffodils.

"Of course I do!" Jim grins, putting down his cup and taking hold of his paintbrush again. He then reconsiders and swaps for a pencil. His mother does the same.

It's quiet for some time as they pair sketch.

Then his mother speaks up.

"So... What's the issue?" She glances towards him. "With this Sherlock guy, I mean."

"I.. I don't know," Jim answers, earning him a 'really' look from the aging women beside him.

"I don't know," Jim repeats, "If I'm as serious about this thing we're doing, whatever the hell it is, as he is. Not to blow my own trumpet but I know he likes me, a hell of a lot. But what if I'm just.. leading him on without meaning to?"

She waits, listening patiently. So Jim continues.

"He's done a lot to show he likes me... and I haven't done much at all besides kiss him back.. I feel like we should talk about what we are, have a serious heart to heart but.. what if it does turn out that he likes me a lot more than I like him? I- I can't hurt him," Jim mumbles the last words sadly, voice breaking a little.

It felt nice to get it out in the open. He'd mainly just repeated what he'd already thought a million times over since his conversation with Alex  but still.. Something about telling his mum made him feel better. Like she'd know what to do.

Jim only hoped.

"Does he make you smile, laugh?" It seems random to Jim but he nods to the question. Smiling, Elizabeth continues, "Does he make you get angry, make you want to kill him?"  _Hell, yes,_ Jim thinks but only nods again "Do you feel warm around him, safe? And his moods always seem to affect yours? If he's worried about you for example, it will make you feel all funny?"

He nods to all the question, a bemused frown sewing his eyebrow together as he waits for some form of explanation.

His mother begins to just stare at him, so he speaks up.

"I, uh... -Yes. To it all."

Elizabeth grins and puts her pencil down, clapping her hands as she faces her son.

"You're serious about him," There was no question or pause for Jim to contradict. Instead, she moves swiftly on to another question.  "Can I be brutally honest?"

Laughing, Jim replies "When aren't you?"

Then she give him one of those mum smiles. The one that tells you she's about to say something that Jim probably didn't want to hear at all but they both knew he needed to hear it and he didn't have a choice anyway so it didn't really matter.

"Jim..." Her smile widens, just a bit. "Every relationship you've had... You push them away. You push and push and push until they leave - without even meaning to. Even when all you want to do is tell them you love them, you push them away."

Jim frowns. What? He didn't do that, did he?

It was true that his boyfriend had always been the ones to leave him but it wasn't always on bad term. Sebastian stuck around and their friendship was great.

Wait. "Love?!" Jim asks in disbelief. "Mum, we haven't been together that long.. If we're even together," Jim says the last bit with a snort.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth sighs. "That's not want I mean. You know that."

Did he? Jim's pretty sure he's not getting any of this.

"I didn't push Sebastian away," Jim points out, puffing his chest out proudly.

"No," Elizabeth agrees, tilting her head. "But you and Sebastian were more fuck-buddies then boyfriends."

Over thirty years and he still couldn't get used to how crude his mother could be. It just seemed wrong to hear her say things like that.

  
_And maybe,_ a voice is Jim's head says,  _you want to avoid thinking about how right she is. You pushed them away._  


"What do I do?" Jim asks, not sure if he was asking the voice, himself or his mother (although he supposes the voice and himself are technically the same person.

"You stop being a dick and tell this Sherlock guy you want to talk, and then you tell him everything you just told me."

Blunt as ever, mum. Cheers.

"Mum?" Jim asks, smiling  

The women raises an eyebrow as she picks up her pencil once again, "Yeah?"

"You lied when you said I get my bitchy-ness from dad."

That sends her into a fit of giggles as she nods at her son.  "I did."

Hours later, Jim settles on the sofa with a small sigh. His dad had gone out to buy a pizza - they always got takeaway on Jim's first and last nights back at home and his mother was in the kitchen, fixing him tea.

He hadn't even noticed how quickly the time had flew past. It was already nearing seven in the evening. Seems like just moments ago it was barely noon and Jim was helping his mother in her art room, getting covered in paint.

One things for sure. He was talking to Sherlock as soon as he got home.

If he wanted this thing they had to be serious, he had to get serious.

No more childishly ignoring Sherlock (unless he takes his laptop, because then Jim believes it's 138% justified). No more arguments because Jim didn't want to be the one to start talking.

No more expecting Sherlock to do something - he should do himself. 


	22. We Need To Talk.

**'I'm back from my parents. Can you come over? We need to talk'**

_'We need to talk?'_

**'Yes'**

_'I hope this isn't your way of starting the conversation where you also say things like "it's not you, it's me"'_

**'God, no. I didn't mean it like that'**

**'Just come over, you prat'**

_'I'll be there in twenty'_

**'Great. xx'**

Jim has to take a deep breath as he places his phone on the coffee table. He breathes in, sucking the oxygen and letting it fill his lungs to the brim. He holds it, waits until he feels like his lungs are going to burst and then he slowly let's it out.

He's much calmer now.

Okay. Tell a lie. He's freaking out. Because, yes, he'd grown a pair and decided to talk to Sherlock about this and finally establish what the hell they are but none of that means he is in anyway calm or collected about this.

His emotions are in a crazy storm and on a roller-coaster at the same time. One minute he's glowing with happiness that he's actually doing this and the next he's timidly biting his lip and worried out of his mind.

If he thinks about it, he knows that it's all going to be okay. It's obvious to anyone that Sherlock likes him more than a fish likes water. Still, a small, stupid and irrational part of him thinks that Sherlock's going to laugh, tell him that it means nothing and that the past month or so had been a game to him that was now getting dull.

Jim runs a hand down his face, groaning in pain when the action makes his glasses press painfully into the bridge of his nose. He hadn't bothered switching to contacts again, having texted Sherlock the moment he walked through the door and seeing as his mother hated his contacts he hadn't had a chance to change the glasses for them before his parents saw him off at the station.

Standing, Jim plans on heading for the bathroom to switch to his contacts when there's a knock on the door. Immediately, he frowns, wondering how the hell he sat there and didn't realise twenty minutes had already passed.

Dismissing the thought, Jim heads to the door and yanks it open. He smiles brightly upon seeing his beautiful kinda-sorta-boyfriend.

"Hey," Sherlock smiles, entering the flat and dropping a kiss on Jim's cheek as he passes.

Jim watches with his own smile as Sherlock peels off his coat, hangs it up, kicks his shoes off and then straightens them. When all that's done, Sherlock straightens and raises an eyebrow. He lifts both hands, raising an eyebrow.

When Jim doesn't answer his silent question, Sherlock walks closer to the staring boy and gently takes hold of his chin. Jim happily let's Sherlock raise his chin and allows his eyes to flutter closed as Sherlock leans down to kiss him.

It's slow and sweet and highlights to Jim just how bloody much he's missed Sherlock over this weekend. Even though he technically left yesterday - and he'd seen Sherlock two days ago. Still. Felt like a long time.

"I missed you," Sherlock mumbles the words against Jim's lips, seeming reluctant to stop kissing him.

"It was just.." A few kisses take place before Jim gets to finish his sentence "Two days."

Sherlock doesn't reply, instead he walks forward and gently presses Jim against the front door. Humming in approval, Jim nibbles on Sherlock's lower lip before he confidently slides his tongue out to meet Sherlock's.

That when he remembers. He called - well, texted - Sherlock here for a reason and, sadly, that reason wasn't so they could have snogging session against the door.

Breaking away, Jim puts a decent amount of space between them. Even though he been pushed back, Sherlock smiles at Jim and steals more one chaste kiss before he backs up further.

Laughing a little, Jim walks around Sherlock and heads for the kitchen to put the kettle on.

He'll need tea for this next bit, just to calm his nerves and also so he can fiddle with the cup and look into the liquid to avoid eye contact because he's sure that this whole getting his feelings into the open thing is going to be embarrassing for him and maybe even Sherlock too.

"So..." The detective drawls in a voice that sounded too sexual for it's own good. He was here to talk, not make Jim drop his pants.  "We need to talk?"

Jim nods, picking the just boiled kettle up and filling two cups with steaming water. When that's done, he stirs and then squeezes the life out of the poor teabags before adding the milk and sugar.

Apparently sensing Jim's hesitation to speak, hence the unusual amount of focus he had on making tea (which now came as naturally as breathing), Sherlock moves closer and wraps his arms around Jim's waist, chin settling on his shoulder.

Jim relaxes into Sherlock and covers the man's large hands with his own smaller ones. If Jim were a woman and pregnant they'd look like a couple from some cheesy chick flick.

And there he goes again, comparing his life to a movie.

"You're wearing glasses," Sherlock murmurs, voice showing how he was obviously fond of this new addition to Jim's outfit.

"Mmm... Mum hates my contacts."

"I like the glasses," Sherlock says, smiling. "They're cute."

"Thank you."

It falls quiet. But it's not awkward or weird. They just stand there, gently rocking to and fro with Sherlock holding him from behind and being even more affectionate than he usually is - Jim not sure if that because he wants to talk and Sherlock's comforting him as he worries or because Sherlock's missed him... maybe it was both.

"James," Sherlock says softly. "You said we needed to talk."

"Yeah.. I.." Jim pauses but he doesn't turn to face Sherlock or even look at him. He just tightens his fingers that settled on top of Sherlock's own and stares down at the steam curling up from the tea mugs.

"Whatever you're worried about, don't be," Sherlock says, kissing Jim's temple. "I'll be right here to listen."

Jim smiles at that, eyes closing momentarily when Sherlock's lips brush against his temple.

"It's about us," Jim starts, then stops. Sherlock doesn't breathe a word and Jim assumes that he's sticking to the whole being here to listen thing. "I... It probably seems silly but it's been bothering me, and I feel like if we don't talk about this than all this is pointless..." He lowers his eyes to the tea again and takes one of those breaths that fill his lungs completely. "I don't know what we are, Sherlock. We haven't talked about it. Sure, we kiss and spend stupid amounts of time together but I have no idea if that means anything to you and if it does, I have no idea what it does mean... So, I suppose I want to know what this is to you - what I am to you - and where you see this going..."

Just for the record, Jim felt tons better for getting all that off of his chest.

Sherlock's arms tighten then and Jim can feel the cold tip of Sherlock's nose pressing against his jaw, just under his ear.

"Oh, Jim... Why didn't you say so sooner? I didn't realise... I thought, like me, you had assumed we were in a serious relationship. I.. I want you to be my boyfriend, James. You.. You mean so much to me and I'm not too sure how to word it. I like making you laugh and smile, and yes, I like annoying you too. And I love the way you can do that to me - make me laugh, smile and be unbelievably annoyed. This, to me, Jim, is everything."

Jim feels his eyes water. He'd have been happy with Sherlock just saying he wanted him to be his boyfriend but what he had said was ten times better. It made Jim's heart stutter in the best possible way.

Turning in Sherlock's arms, Jim wraps his own arms around Sherlock's neck and hugs him fiercely. He buries his face in the other's shoulder and inhales deeply, his lips forming a large grin of their own accord.

Jim opens his mouth to tell Sherlock that those words mean a heck of a lot but all that leaves his mouth is a loud yawn.

Sherlock chuckles and pulls back so he can see Jim's face. "Why on Earth couldn't this wait until the morning?" He teases.

Blushing a little, Jim does his best to elbow him from this angle. "Shuddup."

"You should go to bed," Sherlock advises with a soft smile.

Jim gently tugs on his sleeve, even though he's right there. "Come with me."

Sherlock raises his eyebrow, eyes darkening a little. Jim's blush intensifies by one hundred and he shoves Sherlock. "Not like that, you pervert!"

Chuckling, Sherlock kisses the top of Jim's head. "I'd love to come to bed with you."

"Stop it, or I'll make you sleep on the sofa," Jim glares. Sherlock pretends to zip his mouth up, making his  _boyfriend_ (hell, yes, Jim was glad to not to think the kinda-sorta) smirk. "That's what I thought."

Jim leans up and pecks Sherlock's lips before picking up their tea and carrying them into the bedroom. Sherlock follows with a smile and before Jim even realises it, they've stripped down to their boxers and have tangled themselves together in a big comfortable mess under Jim's covers.

It felt so much better knowing that they were properly together now and that meant Jim could really allow himself to be with Sherlock and get rid of any barriers they had.

Smiling, Jim snuggles into Sherlock and tightens the arm he had around his waist.

It just felt right. To be laying here, cuddling up to Sherlock.

Jim may not bother getting out of bed tomorrow for work. This was lovely. Absolutely perfect.

"James, can I ask you something?" Sherlock mumbles the question into Jim's hair.

Nodding, Jim leans back so he see Sherlock's face. "'Course."

Sherlock frowns a little before he gives Jim a soft smile. "I'd like you to promise me something. You don't have to agree, but I hope you do. Is that okay?"

"I can't agree unless I know what you want from me, can I?"

A chuckle passes Sherlock's lip "No, I guess not."

They fall silent and Jim shoves at Sherlock's shoulder playfully. "Out with it then, idiot."

"I.. Don't get mad okay?" Jim nods to the question and Sherlock continues "Promise me that you won't let Sebastian or any other friends sleep in your bed any more. Just me and you..."

This time round, Jim doesn't get angry. He doesn't know why. His spirits were too high, maybe, from the fact they're in a proper relationship now and that just makes everything seem perfect for the time being.

"I promise. Just you and me. No one else," Jim seals the promise with a kiss.


	23. Time together.

Jim's pretty sure that nothing will ever make him happier than how waking up besides Sherlock did. But, of course, his fucking annoying alarm clock had to ruin the moment and scare Jim half to death.

Like a teenager that didn't want to go to school, he snuggled back into the covers and into his boyfriend.

But alas, he had to get up and prepare himself for the day ahead.

Before he was even at work, he was looking forward to leaving work. It was so unusual for Jim... He really had changed in the last month or so. Back then, Molly had to drag him away from the office during the lunch hours but now he's looking forward to leaving before he'd walked through the door.

He can imagine his mum, humming a soft tune and saying 'oh, how love changes people'.

That thought makes Jim pause. Love?

He shakes his head at the notion and carries on with his day. It was way too soon to even considering thinking about the L word.

Jim breaks the news of this new development in their relationship to Molly at lunch time (which Sherlock didn't interrupt for once) and he'd had the life squeezed out of by her arms that were much stronger than the skinny twig they looked like.

Lunch at Cindy's was nice, as always, and Jim even told Alex about how he'd made things official with Sherlock. Despite the boy's crush on Jim, he'd smiled sweetly and told Jim that he was happy for him. Jim hopes that he got himself a nice not because God he was a sweetie.

The day moved quickly after that, which was perfect for Jim. It seemed like he'd blinked and he was back at home, unlocking the door and calling Sherlock's name (he'd been in bed when Jim left and he seemed happy that way so a note was left on the bedside tablet and Jim let him sleep).

Jim doesn't get a reply. Still smiling, he shrugs and walks into the kitchen to put the kettle on and load up his laptop. As the beautiful device loads, Jim turns to the fridge to collect the milk, only to be stopped by a note from Sherlock.

_'Popped to the shops. You're low on milk and tea bags. I'm using your spare key in case I get back before you're back from work. -SH x'_

Jim grins and pulls open the fridge. He takes out the milk, which was in fact low, and finishes making his tea with one of the five teabags left.

He then moves into the living room and sets his tea on the coffee table, sitting cross-legged on the sofa and balancing his laptop on his legs. After logging in, Jim checks his emails and replies to a crap load of messages he had from Don. Even as he does this, he keeps an eye on time as he waits for Sherlock.

When the sound of a key being shoved into the lock echoes through the flat, Jim stands and puts his laptop down on the table, closing it as he does. Sherlock enters the flat with a blue plastic bag and Jim moves to the door to greet him with a small kiss and a smile.

Sherlock raises a questioning eyebrow but kisses back none the less. Silently, they both move into the kitchen. Sherlock puts the milk away while Jim tips the teabags into the teabag tin. Jim found himself smiling at how adorably domestic they were being.

When he turns Sherlock hands him the spare key. "Here, I doubt you want me to have a key to your place just yet," He says it with a small laugh.

Jim raises an eyebrow at that. "Yet?" He echoes.

Sherlock just nods with a smug little smile. Murmuring something about Sherlock being an idiot, Jim takes hold of Sherlock's coat collar and pulls him down into a kiss.

When he pulls back he looks down at Sherlock's feet and frowns. "You have your shoes on" He scalds, eyeing the coat before he sighed. "And here I thought I'd finally trained you to remove your shoes and coat when you come in."

Sherlock shrugs, smiling as well. Seems Jim wasn't the only one in a ridiculously happy mood because of yesterday's conversation.

"Go," Jim says, pointing to the front door with a playful smile.

Sherlock doesn't make any secret of the eye roll that he makes after Jim says that, but he does as he's told and trails to the front door to remove his shoes and coat. Jim remembers when he went to fix Sherlock's 'poorly' laptop and he found out that he and John don't remove their shoes as soon as they enter.

As a child, Jim would be scolded if he didn't remove his shoes by the front door and often he'd get flicked on the ear by his mum. The habit must have just stuck and now it got on his nerves when someone didn't remove their shoes upon entering his flat.

He'd break the habit into Sherlock. Who says old dogs can't learn new tricks?

Not that Sherlock was much older than him. There's only two years difference.

Some hours later, Jim finds himself cuddled against Sherlock on the sofa with the TV playing some comedy show that Jim hadn't seen before. Not that he was paying much attention. Sherlock seemed determined to keep Jim's mind and mouth on him. Not that Jim minded, of course.

He was very happy to spend his time sitting there and sharing kisses with his boyfriend. He even went as far as to climb into Sherlock's lap as the kisses got longer and deeper.

Jim pulls back abruptly when Sherlock's hands slide under his top. He didn't mean to flinch away, but he does. His own hand shoots down to cover Sherlock's, but his own was on top of the top unlike Sherlock's. Jim holds Sherlock's hand in place, looking at the other man.

Sherlock slowly raises an eyebrow, silently asking what was wrong.

"I..." Jim trails off before he gives a quick smile and leans forward to place kiss on Sherlock's lips. He pushes their foreheads together by doesn't take his hand off Sherlock's. "Clothes stay on," He mumbles the words against Sherlock's lips, eyes closed.

Sherlock nods. "That's fine. Can I keep my hand here?"

Jim mirrors the nod. "Yeah... I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page"

"I'm not expecting anything from you, James." Sherlock promises.

Smiling, Jim moves that centimetre closer and presses their lips together again.

They kiss for a long time, Sherlock's hands roaming over Jim's stomach and stroking the faint muscles there (very, very faint muscles that only existed because Jim often had to run all over the building when at work) and Jim's hands firmly in Sherlock's hair. They get interrupted though... by Jim's stomach growling for attention.

Laughing, Sherlock breaks away and leans his head on Jim's shoulder. He doesn't remove his hands from under Jim's top. Jim hits his shoulder, his cheeks turning a soft pink.

Sherlock then raises his head and looks Jim in the eye, giving Jim an adorable crooked smile that makes Jim's stomach feel funny.

"Let's go out to eat. I know a nice restaurant." Sherlock has that smile on his lips the whole time he's talking and Jim almost kisses the words because he was thinking about kissing those lips again.

Jim blinks a few times before he breaks out in a grin and nod. He leaps up from Sherlock's lap, shivering when the warm hands leave his stomach.

"Just let me go get changed."

Sherlock rolls his eyes for the second time that evening. "You're worse than a woman."

Glaring, Jim slaps the side of Sherlock's head. "Shut up. Or you'll be on the sofa."

Sherlock holds his hands up in surrender and Jim smirks, knowing he now had a threat that could be used time and time again. Because what's the point in life if you can't blackmail your boyfriend a little?

Chuckling to himself, Jim heads to the bedroom to change. 

 


	24. Best Friend Brawl.

The pitter patter of the rain hitting the windows echoes around Jim's flat as he sits on the sofa with his legs crossed and his laptop on his lap. It'd been raining for nearly a whole freaking month, every single day, every minute of every day. It wasn't heavy rain but it was enough to irritate the inhabitants of London.

It'd had started a few nights after Jim and Sherlock's dinner date but the change in weather didn't affect their high sprits. Not at first anyway... They'd been a few incidents where Jim had snapped or had gotten moody and told Sherlock to go home. 

There was never anything major that happened between them. Just Sherlock being annoying and Jim getting, well, annoyed. Nothing out of the ordinary between the pair, really.

When they did have their first major argument... Jim didn't really understand what it was about. Not until after anyway. Sherlock just seemed to... snap.

A whole month of them being cute and 'coupley' together and then Jim suddenly has a whole bunch of things shouted at him as he sits there, fingers on the keyboard of his laptop. He didn't even know what he did and now, all he can do is sit here as a few words slowly flitter.

He hadn't expected Sherlock to blow up like that and Jim had always found it hard to stay switched on when someone begins to shout at him. So he didn't get much from the ten minutes Sherlock was shouting about... something. Jim thinks he remembers Sherlock saying something about kissing and his 'damn laptop'.

Jim tries to think.

He was typing an email to his mum and turned slightly away from Sherlock as the other man leaned forward. Then Sherlock was on his feet and shouting.

Did Sherlock... lean in for a kiss?

If he did, it looks like, from Sherlock's point of view, that Jim avoided it in favour of his laptop. It makes sense, that Sherlock would get annoyed but surely that wouldn't cause him to get so angry all of a sudden and Jim's pretty sure that he hasn't 'avoided' kisses before.

Crinkling his forehead up, Jim puts his laptop on the coffee table and looks at the door that had slammed closed a few moments ago. The rain continues.  _Pitter patter. Pitter patter._  


Just as Jim stands, there's a soft knock on the door.

He frowns. That's not the soft knock of an angry Sherlock.

Jim moves quickly, albeit he was apprehensive, towards the door. His hand settles on the door handle and a cold shiver runs down his spine as he remembers the time he was playing scrabble and he scared himself over opening the door.

Breathing in deeply, Jim pulls the door open.

Then he stares. And stares. And stares.

In front of him, is a dripping wet man that makes Jim wonder if he was entirely accurate about the whole 'drizzling' thing. Despite the man's state, Jim doesn't hesitate to reach out and bring him into a fierce hug as he lets the first sob pass his lips.

"Jim?" questions Sebastian, automatically hugging his friend back.

"Best moment for a surprise visit ev-ever," Jim mumbles into the other's damp shirt, his tears adding to the wetness.

He doesn't fully understand why Sherlock was gone.. But, God, did it hurt to know he was  _gone._  


Sherlock had stormed out, absolutely fuming for some reason and Jim didn't have a clue what to do. He doesn't even know what he's done, for God's sake!

"Jim?" Sebastian asks again, more urgent now. "What's wrong?"

Jim shakes his head, clutching tighter to the other boy.

"Okay. Calm down," Sebastian hushes him, rubbing his back a little before he walks them both into the flat.

He shuts the door before kicking his shoes off and then leading Jim, who hadn't loosened his grip at all, to the sofa. He sits Jim down before he sits on the coffee table, beside Jim's laptop and directly in front of the tearful boy.

"What happened, Jim?" Sebastian asks with a frown, his usually joyful features twisted in worry.

"I - I... S-Sherlock..." Jim manages to stutter a few words before he gives up and lets the tears that want to flow flood his face.

Sebastian's expression hardens the moment Sherlock's name passes his friends lip. Guiltily, Jim realises he hasn't kept Sebastian up to date on his life over the past few months. For all Sebastian knows, Jim was still affected by the whole situation where Sherlock kissed him outside Bart's.

"What happened?" Sebastian repeated, voice no longer having that soft tone people have when comforting a crying person.

"He... I don't.. don't know" Jim admits, trying to calm his breathing and wipe the tears away. "I was just on the.. laptop and then he started s-shouting for no reason. You know what I'm like... I- I switched off... I don't know what he said..."

Sebastian's frown seemed permanent now. "Why was he here?"

"We're together.." Jim said, voice glum. He'd never sounded so miserable before when he told people that Sherlock and he were official.

Sebastian nods and adopts what Jim calls his 'thinking/plotting to kill' face.

Jim watches his friend, placing his trust in the boy to sort his emotions out for him and somehow provide an answer to why Sherlock blew up like he did. Sniffing, Jim uses the sleeve of his jumper to wipe his nose before he slumps into the sofa.

His chest hurt. No... His  _heart_ hurt.

He didn't even know what Sherlock was angry about. Jim doesn't understand why his heart aches and why his eyes are leaking... He doesn't seem to be understanding much lately.

"Well," Sebastian says after a few moments of silence "Let's get your mind off it." He looks to the clock that sat on the wall beside the hallway. "Some movies tonight and then tomorrow we'll go to some of your favourite shops. Buy you a new beanie or something, yeah?"

Jim nods slowly, frowning. That was very... un-Sebastian. Last time he found Jim crying over a guy, he'd very casually asked Jim if he wanted him to go smash the guy's face into a wall. When it came to his friends, Sebastian's methods were often violent - so this was a surprise to say the least.

Not caring that he was being treated like a child who fell over and got a scrape, Jim asks for tea and curls on the sofa as Sebastian rushes to provide him with a lovely milky, sugary and typically British drink.

When the drink arrives, Jim sips at it slowly and keeps his eyes ahead of him. Sebastian takes the seat beside Jim. The man drinking tea glances to the side at his friend, just knowing that he had something on the tip of his tongue and that it was going to come out soon.

Jim just had to wait.

"Jim..." Here it comes. "I don't like this Sherlock guy, but I can tell you do."

Jim blinks, frowning. "Where you going with this, Seb?"

"I'm saying.." He trails off again before turning to look at Jim and grinning. 'I'm saying don't push this one away."

Great. Now Sebastian sounded like his mum.

Did he really push that many people away?

"Wait a second, how the hell is me getting shouted at for something equal to be me pushing Sherlock away?" He asks, temper flaring.

Sebastian's eyes widen at Jim's sharp tone and quickly shakes his head, shoving his hands up in defence. He looked like he was frantically doing Jazz hands.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that. I just... can tell you really like this guy. I didn't mean that this situation was you pushing him away. Just that, in general, you shouldn't."

Jim simply sniffs, looking away and sipping at his tea.

Hours pass with the two just sitting there in a stony silence before Jim stands and disappears into his bedroom. He reappears a minute later with a bundle of pillows and covers cradled in his arms. As he drops them all on the sofa, Sebastian raises an eyebrow.

"What's this?"

"I'm going to bed," Jim explains, as if the statement explained everything.

"Okay.." Sebastian trails off, still confused.

Jim looks blankly at his friend for a heart beat before he shrugs and twirls on his hell, making a beeline for his bedroom once again.

Sebastian frowns and calls out before Jim steps over the threshold into his room. "These for me, then?"

"Yep!" Jim calls back, popping the p. "You're on the sofa," and then Jim's bedroom door slams shut and doesn't get anymore answers to his questions.

Once he'd shut the door behind himself, Jim leans into it and rocks onto his heels as he lets his head fall back and bounce off the wooden door with more force than he intended. A long, drawn out sigh leaves his lips before he uses his arms to push himself off the door and cross the to room to his draws. He opens the third one, pulling out a plain white top since, thanks to the rain, it was a chilly night. Jim then removes every single piece of clothing except his boxers and shrugs on the white top.

He then turns and heads for the bed, only to stop by the side of it and look over his shoulder. There, on a chair, sat a large blue teddy bear that had a stupid grin on it's face and seemed to be staring at Jim. It was the bear that Sherlock won him on their date to the fun fair.

Jim snatches the teddy from the chair and quickly climbs into his bed, cuddling the teddy so much that if it were alive Jim would have suffocated the poor thing. He squeezes his eyes shut and does his best not to start crying again.

But that was pretty hard, because his Sherlock was gone.

Jim doesn't know what time it was when he feel asleep but he did know that when he woke up, his first thought was something about how he should still be asleep because for someone who'd just woken by he was very, very tired.

Feeling depressed and lonely, Jim drags himself out of the bed to put the bear back on the chair where it sat. He makes a brief mental note that he had yet to name the teddy (who gets a teddy and  _doesn't_ name it?!). Once his bed is made, Jim moves to his wardrobe and picks out a black top that had a fierce looking skull on the front and a pair of black skinny jeans. He grabs a black beanie to match before he makes his way to the bathroom.

Almost two hours later, Jim is showered, shaved and dressed. He puts his glasses on, finding he'd become used to wearing them once again. After a check in the mirror, he decides that he looks a bit like a depressed hipster but he also decides that he doesn't give a shit because he really does feel depressed.

Jim moves into the kitchen then and makes himself some toast that he precedes to cover in Marmite, which made him sad again because over the past few weeks every time he'd had Marmite Sherlock had been there to pull a face and inform Jim that he didn't understand how he ate the stuff.

Today was just going to be a sad day, it seemed.

After eating his toast and drinking a cup of tea, Jim enters the living room with a plan to rudely wake Sebastian up but he finds that Sebastian has disappeared from the sofa and he can hear the shower running.

While he waits, Jim makes himself some more tea and opens up his laptop to talk to his online best friend, Don.

From there, things pass in a blur. Sebastian appears, drinks tea, comments in Jim's glasses and ten the two of them are off into town to do some shopping. It's like Jim blinked and found himself in front of his favourite shop to buy beanies from.

"I want that one" Jim tells Sebastian, pointing to a red beanie.

And being the good friend he is, Sebastian smiles and enters the shop to go buy it.

And, of course, that's when Jim turns and to lean against the window to wait and he comes face to face with a very upset looking John Watson. Jim flinches at first and then blinks at the doctor, raising an eyebrow.

Before he can asks, John pipes up.

"What the hell did you do to Sherlock?" The short man spits, scaring the crap out of Jim.

John was in the army, right? Jim thinks Sherlock said something like that. Well, it shows...

"I- I didn't do anything."

John does not look convinced. "Then maybe you can explain to me why he came home last night, weeping like a lost child and locked himself in his room? It took me forever to convince him to come out. He wouldn't say a word about it but I know for a fact that it's you. It's always  _you_!"

Jim flinches again as John points a finger at him.

He hadn't realised how much Sherlock told his doctor friend. Did he tell John every time they had a spat or Jim upset him?

"I don't know why he's angry at me, I -" Jim tries to explain, only for John to interrupt.

"He's not angry. He's miserable. I'd go as far as saying heartbroken," John was getting more annoyed by the second. He looked like he was very close to punching Jim.

Surely that was a bit dramatic, right?  _Heartbroken?_  


The door to the shop opens then and Sebastian strolls out, approaching Jim and eyeing John cautiously. Jim felt both safer and more eager to flee. On one hand, he knew Sebastian wouldn't let John hit him but on the other he knew that heated words directed at Jim often caused Sebastian to use his own fists.

He didn't want any trouble. Especially between Sherlock's best friend and his best friend.

"I'm going to guess you're the friend that likes to share a bed?" John asks, voice layered with sarcasm and bitterness.

Sebastian raises a challenging eyebrow, almost as if asking if John really wanted to use  _that_ tone with  _him._  


"And I'm going to guess your the friend of the lovely man that left Jim in tears that night?" Sebastian replies is a bittersweet tone of his own.

John glares at Jim briefly, as if he didn't believe he was upset by this situation with Sherlock. Automatically, Jim shrinks away from the hateful looks. Oh, the memories of school that look brings back... Jim shivers as he suddenly gets a mental image of a cackling Carl Powers.

"W-where's Sherlock?" Jim mumbles, feeling like John was demanding his lunch money.

John's glare somehow intensifies. "Oh, so now you care?"

That pushes Jim's fears out the window and he clenches his fists, stepping forwards. He could almost feel his blood boiling. "Of course I care. He's my boyfriend, I care a hell of a lot about him."

John snorts. "He  _was_ your boyfriend"

Jim shakes his head, denying it. John nods, a spiteful smile twisted onto his lips.

Sebastian's arm comes across Jim's chest then and he pushes the man backwards, eyes on John. "That's enough, now."

Tired of not fighting his own fights, and still beyond peeved over John's not caring comment, Jim struggles against Sebastian's arm until his friend moves and allows Jim to step close to John again.

"His is my boyfriend, so drop the over protective friend bull shit because newsflash,  _darling,_ couples fight and argue and have misunderstanding and yes, they make each other cry, so get the fuck out of my business because this has nothing to do with you. Sherlock—"

Whatever Jim was going to say is lost to a groan of pain as John draws his arm back and socks Jim right on the jaw. Shocked, and frankly not one to physically fight back, Jim stumbles backwards and despite Sebastian's effort lands on his arse.

Sebastian automatically ducks to check Jim's okay and when he sees the way Jim is holding his mouth open and looking down as if to assess the throbbing pain in his jaw, he straightens and glares at John.

And Jim's 150% sure that Sebastian would have punched John, had there not been a shout of Jim's name from across the street from a certain blue scarf wearing detective.


	25. Silly.

In a matter of seconds, Sherlock is in front of Jim and kneeling down, taking hold of his chin gently and gazing at him in worry. All Jim can do is stare at the detective hurls the question of 'are you okay?' at him.

No. He wanted to say. He is most definitely not okay because last night his boyfriend left him feeling lonely and upset and now that same boyfriend was knelt in front of him like nothing at all happened because his best friend thought that Jim looked like a punching bag.

"What the hell?" were the first words Jim fully hears and they come from John. "Sherlock, you were beyond upset because of him last night and now you're asking if  _he's_ okay?"

Sherlock turns his head to look up at John, eyes turning from soft to angry in less than a second. "And because I was upset that somehow gives you the right to punch him, huh?"

John opens his mouth to argue back but closes it a moment later, shaking his head and looking down at his feet in shame.

"Look at him!" Sherlock goes on, eyes back on Jim's jaw to search for signs of damage. "Physically, the only way he'd have a chance against you is of he was armed with thousands of remote controls."

Despite his confusion about where he stood with Sherlock, Jim has to giggle at that. Which earns him a small smile from Sherlock, which leads to Jim looking down at his lap to avoid Sherlock's eyes and that adorable smile.

Jim hears a sigh from Sherlock but he doesn't look up to meet the other's eyes again and doesn't even risk a peak to check, it was definitely him that sighed. Sherlock stands then and Jim, from the corner of his eye, registers that Sherlock's hand was being offered to him.

Ignoring the hand Sherlock held out to help him up, Jim pulls himself to his feet and dusts off his jeans.

Sebastian makes a small sound of approval at the action, and Jim wonders how much his friend honestly meant that comment about him not wanting Jim to push Sherlock away. Then again, he also said he didn't like Sherlock. Not that it mattered. Sherlock didn't need to be liked by his friends to be liked by him.

When he's content that his jeans aren't mucky, Jim mentally prepares himself before raising his eyes to meet Sherlock's own. Instead of speaking, he raises an eyebrow.

Sherlock looks lost and for a split second Jim wants to grin and tell Sherlock he deserved the feeling. By then it faded because he knew that he couldn't honestly think that until he knew why Sherlock left last night.

"Can we go back home.. -I mean, to yours," Sherlock's cheeks take on a pink tinge and Jim ignores the way his pulse was racing. Sherlock considered his flat home.. "to talk," Sherlock finishes, after a slight pause.

Choosing to not answer right away, Jim looks to Sebastian, silently asking what he'd do with himself if he did go  _home_ to talk to Sherlock about.. something.

"I'll go see Molly!" Sebastian's face brightens as he suggests the idea.

Automatically, Jim's eyes narrow into slits. Much like he had yesterday, Sebastian holds his hands up in defence and frantically shakes his head.

"Not like that," he cries "We're friends!"

Knowing Sebastian wasn't lying, Jim gives him a small smile before he looks back to the gorgeous man that was his boyfriend. At least, Jim was pretty sure that Sherlock was still his boyfriend... He wasn't going to listen to John's angry words.

"Let's go, then" Jim says to Sherlock, almost knocked off his feet again by the grin Sherlock gives as the words passes Jim's lips.

Sherlock says goodbye to John, who mumbles his farewell and also a quick apology to Jim before he disappears. Jim would have said goodbye to Sebastian but passed telling Jim to text when he was happy for Sebastian to return, the man was glued to his phone as he texts Molly and strolled off in the general direction of her flat.

Jim had never seen Sebastian text a girl he wasn't trying to bed so much before...

It's then that Jim realises a few things. The smiles they sent each other. The way that sat close in Cindy's. And also, Sebastian had been texting Molly for some time because he remembers way back when they went on their not-a-date to the funfair, Sebastian had texted him and said Molly told him where he was going.

Wow. He's blind, Jim realises. Sebastian was falling for the charming Molly. He just hoped Sebastian didn't underestimate that girl because she could be a mean little thing when she wanted to be.

Deciding he could bug Sebastian later, Jim focuses on his own relationship.

Sherlock was walking behind him, following silently like an obedient puppy. Trying not to smile at the mental image he had of a puppy wearing Sherlock's scarf Jim walks faster.

The sooner they moved on from this, the sooner Jim can go back to cuddling Sherlock at night and kissing him. He didn't like this avoidance and awkwardness at all. In fact, he hated it.

When they did get back to his flat, Jim didn't have to remind Sherlock about his shoes and, even though it was a little thing, Jim felt like it was a good sign. Locking the door behind him, Jim also removes his coat and shoes.

He then sits on the sofa, the awkwardness settling over them the same way a winter blanket did on a hot summer's night. Not exactly all that much fun. The awkwardness seems to go up a layer as Sherlock sits beside him.

"About what I said yester-" Jim holds a hand up to stop Sherlock.

Sherlock does stop, looking nervous as he chews on his lower lip.

"Before that, I need to tell you something" Jim pauses. Sherlock nods for him to continue and so he does after a sharp inhale. "Ever since I was little, I've never been good with shouting. My parents have always been laid back and so when someone shouts at me, I... switch off and just stop listening."

Sherlock's face lights up in understanding, and maybe just a hint of happiness or relief of some kind.

"So you didn't hear a word I said?"

Jim shakes his head. "Nope. Other than something about my _damn laptop,_ " Jim narrows his eyes. "And something about kissing too, I think."

Sherlock sighs, a grin spreading across his lips. He moves closer and links his fingers his Jim's. Even though he was confused, Jim squeezes Sherlock's fingers and return the smile.

"I know it doesn't really excuse shouting at you like that but I was just having a terrible day and wanted to spend the evening with you. But you were busy on your laptop and I know that when I leaned in to kiss you, you didn't purposely avoid it..." His voice shakes a little. "Lestrade and John have been trying to get me to take cases and even though I miss them a bit, I want to be here with you more than anything..." His smile was nothing but sincere.

Jim's cheeks redden and he averts his eyes. "Is it bad that I kinda forgot you have some form of work?"

Sherlock chuckles and soon Jim feels a light pressure on his cheek from Sherlock's lips.

"It's fine."

There was silence for a while before Sherlock moves closer, his knee knocking into Jim's and his hand sliding up to cup the other man's cheek. Naturally, Jim tilts his head to look at his boyfriend again.

"Can we put this behind us?" Sherlock asks, with a small worried frown.

Jim nods, smiling as he does. "Of course. It was silly."

"We are silly," Sherlock giggles, agreeing.

Folding his feet up onto the sofa, Jim curls into Sherlock and they settle back so Jim's head in on Sherlock's chest, tucked under his chin. From this position they could easily wrap their arms around each other. Jim doesn't even try to be subtle about the way he turns his head and breathes in a smell that can only be described as Sherlock.

He laughs a little, still finding that Sherlock's aftershave was kind of girly with how sweet smelling it is.

But then Jim's frowning and pulling back to look at Sherlock with a serious expression.

"Did I really make you cry?" He asks, almost stumbling over the words with the emotion his voice held.

Sherlock bites his bottom lip before nodding and looking away. "Well, no. Actually," He corrects himself, looking at Jim again. "I did cry, but it wasn't really because of you. Like I said, I was having a bad day and even though you didn't mean to when you avoided the kiss it was just too much for me. So, yes, I cried, but no, you didn't make me cry."

Jim nods, not sure what he can say. Instead of saying anything, he leans forward to kiss Sherlock. He'd planned for it to be a quick, simple kiss but before Jim can really bring himself to think about something that wasn't how wonderful Sherlock tasted, he'd climbed into the other's lap and was straddling him as their tongues moved together frantically.

Sherlock's hand slide under Jim's top, massaging the skin there. Jim suddenly had an image of Sherlock kissing his way down his stomach, nipping and licking here and there. A shudder runs down Jim's spine and he gently pulls Sherlock's hand away.

Their lips separate and Sherlock frowns, looking a bit disappointed. "Clothes stay on?" He guessed.

Jim nods, leaning his forehead on Sherlock's and lowering his voice "At least, they stay on until we move into the bedroom."

Sherlock releases a breath, almost gasping, and the arms that held Jim around the waist tightened. Sherlock kisses him once, hard and fast before he pulls back. "Are you sure?"

Jim nods again, smiling brightly against Sherlock's lips as the fingers he had buried in those curls tightened. This time, he kisses Sherlock and he was very thankful that Sherlock didn't stop them to talk any more. He had his Sherlock back now and he wanted to kiss him all night long. Among other things he wanted to do to and with him.

Sherlock's hands slide under Jim's top again but this time his hands feel their way up Jim's sides, pulling the thin fabric of what Jim called his top with them. Compiling with what his boyfriend obviously wanted, Jim stops kissing him and allows the garment to be tugged off over his head. Even though moments before he said that clothes stayed on until they got to the bedroom. Well, some rules are made to be broken.

Sherlock had seen him topless before but this was different and so Jim's face decided that it wanted to turn the same colour as a cherry tomato. Still blushing, Jim leans in for another kiss so he can't stop Sherlock from focusing on his undefined chest and really not muscular stomach.

It was clear though, Sherlock had other plans. He breaks their lips apart and begins to kiss down Jim's neck, his fingertips running up and down a small section of Jim's spine.

As those beautiful lips work their way down, Jim becomes fidgety. Any second now and Sherlock would find his sweet —

"Holy shit!" Jim gasps as Sherlock bites down on his neck. Not quite on his sweet spot but close enough that it gained a strong reaction, especially from a certain part of his body. "S-Sherlock..." Jim mumbles the word, aroused and embarrassed at the same time.

He was sat here in his gorgeous boyfriend's lap without a shirt on and revealing his not so fabulous body, and on top of that his 'little friend' was making itself announced by pressing against his zipper and forming a bulge in his jeans. He was beyond mortified.

Sherlock raises his head so his mouth was by Jim's ear. His hands squeeze Jim's hips. "You're beautiful," Sherlock whispers. "You're gorgeous... You take my breath away, James..."

Releasing a sound that was some mix of a laugh and a sob, Jim crushes their lips together in a fierce yet loving kiss.

"Take me to bed, Sherlock Holmes," Jim murmurs softly, eyes shining with tears of nothing but happiness. 


	26. Biscuit Thief.

Before, Jim had been sure that he knew what the most amazing feeling in the world was. He thought this twice, actually. The first was when he believed that running his fingers across the smooth keys on a keyboard was the best feeling in the world. Then, maybe a month ago, he changed his mind and decided that waking up beside his boyfriend was probably the best feeling there was to life.

But now.. He's changed his mind again. There's a new feeling that he loves even more than waking up beside Sherlock.

The best feeling in the world, in Jim's point of view, was waking up to feel strong arms wrapped around him and to feel his boyfriend's steady breathing as he sleeps and while all of this is happening Jim knows what they shared last night and that makes his heart squeeze in a nice way. That.. That's the best feeling ever.

He feels loved.

And yes, he meant to use the L word there.

Last night had been amazing. Sherlock was a very gentle lover and he had wiped all of Jim's insecurities away and made him feel beautiful and cherished. Once they had entered the bedroom, they had both been topless and were flushed with arousal. Sherlock had taken hold of Jim's lower back and lowered him onto the bed as if he were a delicate flower. They'd kissed and gradually removed all their clothing. They had taken more than enough time to ensure that Jim was ready and then Sherlock had been so slow and calm... It was so different to how Jim had been with others in the past. He had a feeling it wasn't so much sex as a phrase that contained that L word again and had 'made' in front of it.

Smiling to himself, Jim rolls over to look at the man that lay beside him - luckily the movement didn't make Sherlock's arms fall from around Jim's waist.

Sherlock's eyes were closed, moving slightly under his eyelids now and then, his long, dark eyelashes sat perfectly on his pale cheeks and created a perfect contrast.

Careful not to wake the other up, Jim leans forward and places a kiss on the sleeping man's nose. After, knowing if he stayed in bed he'd end up waking up Sherlock, Jim slowly slides out of Sherlock's arms and the bed.

Once he was on his feet, he pauses and looks over his shoulder to check that his boyfriend was still fast asleep. He was.

Allowing himself another smile, Jim crosses to his draws - wincing a little at the pain that shot up his spine from his backside which, thankfully, wasn't terrible and caused only a small almost-limp in Jim's gait. He pulls out a clean pair of boxer shorts and steps into the blue plaid fabric.

On his way out of the room, Jim grabs his glasses and pus them on. From there, his feet automatically start carrying him in the direction of the kettle and tea. He doesn't manage to get that far, though.

As he steps over the threshold into the kitchen, his feet cease all movement and all he can do is stare.

There, rooting through Jim's sweet/biscuits cupboard (yes, he has an cupboard purely dedicated to them, don't judge him), is Sebastian. Jim was just about to open his mouth and demand to know how the hell the man got into the flat and just how long had he been here when his jaw clamps shut at the sight of what Sebastian held in his left hand.

Jim's pretty sure that he's never moved so fast and that, if his aim was different, he could make his old PE teacher, Mr Clark, proud. In under two seconds, Jim has crossed the kitchen and plucked the packet of delicious Rich Tea biscuits from the unexpecting Sebastian's grip.

Flinching in fright at the idea of possibly being under attack, Sebastian whirls so he's facing his attacker. His shoulders, which had tensed up a considerable amount, relax when he realises that it's just Jim.

"I swear," Sebastian laughs, "you have some kind of sixth sense about when people raid your goodies cupboard."

Glaring at his friend, Jim bumps his hip with Sebastian's to get him to move before he puts the biscuits back in their rightful place. Jim feels fat just looking at all the stuff he had in there and he reckons he could give an over emotional girl going through a break up a run for her money in terms of sugar filled food.

"You always eat my favourite ones," Jim whines, pulling a small-ish pack of Oreo's from the front of the cupboard and tossing them to Sebastian. "Have those and never touch my Rich Tea's again. They are as precious as my laptop and I will skin you if I find so much as a crumb crosses your lips..."

Jim narrows his eyes and Sebastian raises his hands in defence, an action that was becoming increasingly commonly between the friends. It's hardly Jim's fault that Sebastian always did things that brought out Jim's violent side.

"Woah.. Okay!" Sebastian grins, obviously not taking Jim seriously. His smile grows as he watches Jim walk over to the kettle and he leans against the counter, leaning his chin on his hand as he watches Jim from the corner of his eye. "So..." He drawls, tone screaming that he was about to say something teasing "Going from your penguin walk, I'm going to guess that things went very well with Sherlock last night."

Jim glares again. "Shut up. It's not that bad."

"Kinda are. Was he good?"

Jim's cheeks are not fire, he's blushing that much.

"He was brilliant, the best. And it's not that obvious..." Jim huffs "You can just spot it miles away."

"Especially with you," Sebastian winks.

Jim smiles, but it felt a little odd now that he had Sherlock. Sebastian and him had always been this way - even before they had their friends-with-benefits stage. Still, knowing that he had a boyfriend, Jim couldn't shake the feeling that it just didn't feel right anymore.

"Can we stop discussing my sex life now?" Jim asks in an irritated voice.

"One more question?" pleads Sebastian.

"Fine. C'mon then, what?"

Grinning, Sebastian leans forward. His eyes were shining with mischief and Jim's stomach jumps in a nervous manner.

"Is he bigger than me?"

Jim blinks before he turns his back to Sebastian. "Right, moving on-"

"No!" Sebastian cries. "Tell me!"

Jim sighs "Will you leave me alone if I tell you?"

Sebastian nods and that just makes Jim sigh again.

"No, he's not. Now, moving on!" Jim glances at Sebastian as he fixes himself tea. "When are you off home?"

Sebastian gives a small cheer and jumps a tad, fist pumping into the air. Jim rolls his eyes as his friend calms down and looks at him, addressing his question.

"I planned to be down for a week but I doubt you want me hanging around now that you have Sherlock here most of the time" As he speaks, Sebastian's voice gradually gets quieter and weaker.

Frowning, Jim turns so he's focused solely on Sebastian. "You're my friend, Sebastian, and you have been since I was a whimpy little teenager. I'm not going to kick you out off my flat just because I have a boyfriend. Stay a week if you want to, I'm more than happy to have you here. Bros before hoes, right?"

They both crack smiles, giggling.

"Did you just call me a hoe?" Comes a teasing voice from the doorway.

Jim turns his head to see Sherlock stood in the doorway, dressed similarly to Jim, smirking at him. Feeling himself flush, Jim knows there's a rosy pink glow to his cheeks and Jim averts his eyes, mentally adding calling his boyfriend a hoe to his ever growing list of embarrassing moments that he never wants to happen ever again.

Of course, Sebastian starts to giggle again. He'd always found Jim's horrifyingly embarrassing times absolutely hilarious.

"Twat" Jim coughs, not so subtly, glaring at Sebastian for the third time this morning.

Sherlock walks over to him, smiling gently, and he wraps an arm around Jim's bare waist. Jim bites his lip and prays that neither of the others in the room noticed the shiver that ran through him. Cuddling against Sherlock in return, Jim fights his urge to run his hand across Sherlock's flat and toned stomach. Jim was both jealous of and in love with Sherlock's abdomen.

Silently, Jim hopes that Sherlock walking around in his boxers would be a regular thing. If Sebastian wasn't here, Jim would not be keeping his hands to himself so much.

Sherlock's smirk changes then and Jim has a feeling that he knew exactly was Jim was thinking about. Blushing again, Jim pries himself away from Sherlock and goes back to sorting his tea out.

As he leans on the counter side and sips the piping out brew, Sebastian approaches Sherlock. Their eyes lock and Jim suddenly can't find his voice to tell Sebastian to back off. He's frozen too, he can't move all he can do is stare.

Never had Jim wanted the conversation to return to how he called someone a hoe as much as he did now.

"If I ever find out you've made Jim cry like that again, I will not hesitate to adopt the role of big brother who wants to murder you in your sleep," Sebastian gives a bittersweet smile.

Much to Jim's surprise, Sherlock just nods. Jim's heart thumps, knowing that he wasn't accepting the words because he was scared of Sebastian. No, he was accepting the word because he didn't want to hurt Jim.

His boyfriend was kind of perfect at times, Jim realises.

Suddenly, Sebastian switches back to friendly and he grins at Jim. "I'm off to Molly's for the day, I'm taking her on a date."

Jim frowns at Sebastian. "Really?"

Didn't he say yesterday they were just friends?

Sherlock's eyebrows raise and Sebastian nods.

"Yes. I am.. and before you wonder, no, I don't plan on bedding her."

Jim chokes on his tea and has to put the cup down, eyes widening. He coughs, and Sherlock's hand rubs his back until he recovers, leaving his hand low of his back even after Jim had recovered.

"Y-you're serious about her?!" Jim realised how it sounded but he knew he didn't mean any disrespect towards Molly.

Sebastian nods, looking at Jim like he'd grown another head.

Jim shakes his head. "No, no, no. You don't get to look at me like that with your track record, mister! I've only ever known you to have one serious relationship before and it was your first relationship with that Abbey girl or whatever she was called." Jim had to bite off his personal nickname for that girl - 'the blonde tart'.

Sebastian just shrugs. Reaching to his side, Jim picks up the closest object he could throw - his glasses case - and he makes sure it bounces off his friend's head.

"Hurt her, and you'll be wishing that you choose to eat the Rich Tea biscuits instead," He warns.

Nodding, his face serious for a rare moment, Sebastian says "I promise not to."

"Right," Jim suddenly smiles. "Have fun then!"

Ten minutes later, Sebastian has left the flat to go pick Molly up for their date. Jim wasn't too sure what they'd be doing at midday but if he knew Sebastian, and he did, then it would no doubt be something wacky and weird and he knew that Molly would be rather fond of whatever unique activity Sebastian had planned for them.

All thoughts of his friends were quickly removed from his mind though as the moment the door closes, Sherlock pulls him in for a long kiss that had Jim both squeaking in surprise and groaning in appreciation.

When they pull away from one another, they're breathless and both have large smiles. Sherlock leans down so his forehead is against Jim and they're just standing there, cuddling. Jim giggles, indulging himself and running his fingers over those damn stomach muscles.

Something seems to cross Sherlock's mind then and he pulls back a little. "Wait. How did Sebastian get in?"

Jim blinks, turning to look at the door. "I have no idea."


	27. Polar Bear Pick-Up Lines.

Later that day, Jim and Sherlock are both sat on the sofa (dressed now) doing their own thing but still spending time together. Sherlock was reading a book, one of his leg's resting across Jim's knees and the other half tucked under himself. Jim was on his laptop and he had his baby resting on his lap in a way that meant there was still room for Sherlock's leg.

Jim was half-way through typing an email to his mum when Sherlock's words from earlier come back to mind.

He turns his head and watches Sherlock for a heartbeat before he speaks.

"Are you really not taking cases?"

Sherlock doesn't seem too startled by the question. He places his finger on the page in the book and closes it, using his finger as a bookmark.

He then looks back at Jim and shakes his head with a smile. "Like I said, I want to spend time with you."

Chuckling, Jim leans over and presses a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "It may seem great spending ninety percent of our free time together now but the novelty will wear off. You said John and Lee.. Lestrade?.. were trying to get you to do cases - you shouldn't neglect the work  _or_ your friends because of me"

"Well, when the novelty wears off, I'll take more cases."

Jim rolls his eyes.  _Stubborn git._  


"If you haven't been taking cases, what do you do while I'm at work?" As he asks, Jim closes his laptop and leans forward to place it on the table.

Sherlock shrugs. "Experiments, mostly. I don't want to take a case and then be away from you longer than I need to."

"Sap," Jim accuses, but gives the man another kiss anyway because even though he won't say so out loud Jim thought that was rather adorable.

"Does it really matter I'm not taking cases? Or are you trying to get rid of me already?" He teases, poking Jim in the rib and effectively losing his page in the book because he used the finger he was using for a bookmark.

Jim laughs at the action when Sherlock pouts down at the book before moving both legs in front of him and placing the book on top of Jim's laptop.

"Idiot," Jim says, voice only expressing fondness.

He then moves closer to Sherlock, resting his head on his shoulder. He always loved how Sherlock was completely fine with how cuddly he could be. Last night, Jim practically became a kola bear after they'd lay down and yet Sherlock had still tried to pull him closer.

"So?" Sherlock prompts, right arm coming up to settle on Jim's shoulder.

Jim raises his head and gives Sherlock a question look. "So... What?"

" _So,_ does it really matter that much I'm not taking cases?"

Jim frowns, thinking. "Well, yeah, it does. Before all this..." He gestures between them. "You always gave the impression that the work was your main focus and as much as I like being the centre of your attention, surely you miss it. Cases weren't exactly just a hobby for you."

Sherlock nods. "I do miss them. There's not all that many that are interesting, though. When John and Lestrade were reading them out, they were simple and I solved at least five just from being given an overview of the case through the client's message or email."

Jim hums before he leans forward to snatch Sherlock's phone from the table. He enters the pass code before opening up Sherlock's website and giving him the phone.

Sherlock blinks at him. "How do you know my password?"

Smirking, Jim shrugs. That was far more cool and mysterious than telling Sherlock he peeked over his shoulder one time.

Shaking his head with a laugh, Sherlock begins to scroll through his phone and being the nosy person he is, Jim peers over and reads with his boyfriend. He found a few interesting but going by how quickly Sherlock scrolled on after reading, Jim guessed they were all that to the stupidly intelligent consulting detective.

Just as Sherlock seems to take an interest in one - he let out a small 'oh' and stopped scrolling - there's a knock on the door. So, leaving Sherlock to it, Jim stands and makes his way over to the door.

He was expecting Sebastian, or maybe Molly but who he finds stood there shocks him.

Jim blinks. "Alex?" 

Alex blinks too, equally as confused. "Jim?"

"Um, how do you know where I live?" asks Jim, mouth in a seemingly permanent frown.

Alex may be sweet, but Jim wouldn't overlook stalking the same way he overlooks the fact Alex has a teeny crush on him.

"I didn't," Alex explains, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck before he points down at the floor. "I live below you"

"You do?" Jim was half guilty and half shocked. He'd never made a point of getting to know the neighbours and still only knew one or two by name.

"Yeah. I have for about two years... Didn't realise that we lived in the same building," Alex chuckles, his cheeks staining a reddish-pink colour as he meets Jim's eyes.

Jim laughs with him, feeling bad that Alex had this crush despite knowing Jim was taken. "Neither did I. Small world. Anyway, I guess there's a reason you knocked?"

Alex nods. "Yeah. I'm having a party and wanted to let the neighbours know that the music will be on till late and will probably be loud."

"Oh! Okay, then. Doesn't bother me. As long as you don't play crap music," Jim laughs again, almost throwing in a wink but stopping himself when he realised that was probably a bit too flirty.

Alex shuffles on his feet, awkward again. "I know we're not the most acquainted but, um, if you want to drop by then it starts at seven. I'm directly below you. Number one-oh-one."

A party?

Jim wasn't usually the type for parties but he hadn't been to one in a long time and it could be fun. Besides, it was Saturday night and he had nothing better to do.

"Yeah, okay. Why not?" Jim smiles, nodding.

Alex grins, almost jumping in excitement. "Great! Bring your boyfriend too, if you like! - I have to go warn some more neighbours of the noise so I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah" Jim nods again.

"Okay! Bye, Jim!"

"Bye."

The boy rushes off, waving at Jim until the door closed. Jim chuckles to himself. Alex really was a sweet guy. He was even warning half the building about the noise. Not many people now a days did things like that.

When Jim returns to the sofa, Sherlock is tapping away on his phone and so he sits without a word, not wanting to distract Sherlock when he was so focused. Ten minutes later, Sherlock turns to Jim who was on the laptop again.

"I have a case," He announced. "I'm meeting the client at half six, so in half an hour."

Jim grins "That's great. Dunno if you heard Alex, but he invited me - and you - to his party so I'll probably go to that."

Sherlock nods and smiles. "Okay. Well, I'm going to go now so I can meet them on time. I'll text you if I'm planning to come back later."

"Take the spare key, if you like," Jim places the laptop down before he stands and moves into the kitchen to get the spare key.

When he gets back in the living room, Sherlock has moved to the front door and is pulling on his coat and shoes. Jim moves over the detective and once he has his coat on, Jim gives him the key which he slides in his pocket.

Jim leans up, arching his neck, and kisses his boyfriend goodbye. "When you get back, I want to hear all about it, okay?"

Sherlock nods, grins and murmurs his farewell before planting another kiss on Jim's lips and disappearing out the door. Looking to the clock, Jim's eyes widen and he rushes into the bedroom.

He had less than an hour to get ready for this party!

In the end, after having a quick shower and blow drying his hair, Jim chooses his blue tartan button up and a pair of knee length denim shorts. He doesn't bother with a beanie seeing as it was inside and just pushes his hair back like he normally has it. Once all that's done and he's sprayed some of his favourite aftershave, Jim has just long enough to have a quick cup of tea before he grabs his phone and leaves dead on seven o'clock.

The music had started just as Jim closed his door and he hoped that was a sign he wouldn't be the first person to arrive.

As he rides the lift down and approaches Alex's flat, a bubble of excitement wells up in Jim. He'd never had tons of friends throughout his life (a choice he made, despite what many think) and the only parties he'd really been to had been the one's Sebastian held were the females outnumber the males 3-1.

As he knocks, a group of two guys and one girl also approach the door. He smiles at them, realising now that he was going to be much older than most people here.

The girl, a short blonde, chuckles. "Bit silly closing the door with that music, isn't it?"

She then steps forward and pushes a doorbell that Jim hadn't seen. Before he could agree with her statement and thank her for noticing the doorbell, the door opens to reveal Alex who now wore a red tartan button up and black jeans. His smile, which was already in place, widens at the sight of Jim.

"We match!" He laughs, pointing between their tops. Jim smiles.  Alex then looks at the people behind Jim and opens the door more than before. "Come in!"

They all enter and Jim was surprised to see a far amount of people already around. 

Alex's flat had the same layout as Jim's own and his use of the space was amazing. He had a long table set out along the far wall, one half of it covered in food and the other half covered in alcohol. Then he'd placed a massive stereo to side of his two sofas, which had been shoved in one corner. Alex had clearly moved things around because Jim was sure, even if he hadn't been here before, that Alex didn't usually have an empty space for people to dance around in the dead centre of his living room and that mini disco ball lampshade didn't seem like an everyday lampshade.

Alex, after saying hello to those who just arrived, turns to Jim. "Seeing as you don't know anyone, I'll introduce you to some people."

Jim nods. "That'd be great."

Three hours later, Jim's head is feeling a little fuzzy from all the alcohol and he's loosened up. Despite being introduced to quite a number of  people, Jim had chosen to stick with Alex and another boy that was Alex's BFF. The three of them had been doing shots and Jim had been trying to ignore the way there was a guy across the room staring at Alex. He didn't want to interfere but God, Alex was blind.

He nudges Alex's BFF while Alex himself goes for more shots. "Who's the guy over there in the white top with the cool black hair that can't keep his eyes off Alex?"

"Oh! That's Cameron, he came with Sophie. Do you think he likes Alex..?" The guy asks. Jim can't remember his name.

"No" Jim shakes his head. "I know he likes Alex," He then smirks. "Time for me to play matchmaker."

Alex's BFF chuckles as Jim pretends to crack his knuckles before winking at him and then making his way towards Cameron.

When he arrives by the taller boy's side, he waves a hand in front of Cameron's eyes which were still on Alex to get his attention. Cameron's face immediately explodes with colour at being caught as he looks to Jim.

"H-Hi" He clears his throat and nods. "Hi."

Jim decided to take a leaf out of his mother's book and gets straight to the point. "Stop staring and go flirt with him."

"W-who?" Cameron stutters.

Rolling his eyes, Jim replies "Alex. You've been staring at him all night, so go flirt with him."

Cameron bites his lip again and runs a hand nervously through his black hair. "What do I say?"

Jim hums, thinking. "Say 'do you know how much polar bears weigh?'" Cameron raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "Then say 'enough to break the ice. Hi, I'm Cameron.'" 

That makes Cameron break into a grin. "That has to be the worse pick-up line ever." 

"It made you smile," Jim points out. "It's funny. Alex likes funny."

That made Cameron's mind up and he nods, thanking Jim before he made his way over to Alex and taps his shoulder. Jim returns to his previous space beside Alex's BFF, accepting the drink he handed him.

"My work is done," He grins, watching as Alex bursts out laughing and hands Cameron a drink.

"What did you tell him to say? Alex is still laughing!"

"Ever heard the polar bear one about breaking the ice?" Jim asks.

Alex's friend nods and chuckles. "Yeah. Not surprised that one had Alex giggling."

Jim was about to reply to whatever-his-name-is when his phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out Jim sees an unknown number flash across the screen. Jim points to his phone to show Alex's friend where he was going before he turns on his heels and head to the front door, answering the phone as he did.

"Hello?!" Jim half shouts down the line.

_"Jim? Jim, you there? It's John."_

Jim frowns, stepping out the flat. "John? What's wrong?"

_"It's Sherlock. He's in hospital."_


	28. Okay.

The hospital was in his sight now. He sat right against the door of the taxi, eagerly waiting to escape and enter the building that he saw five or six days a week. The sound of his rapid heartbeat pulsed in his ears, drowning everything else out. All he could register was the horrifying, paralysing fear that was circulating around his whole body.

A single word went through his mind. Just one. _Sherlock._  


When the car comes to a stop outside the hospital, Jim hops out and throws a twenty pound note into the drivers lap. He didn't stop for the change, simply turned on his heel and scurried into the hospital's reception area.

The receptionist beams as he approaches "Jim, hi-"

"No time for chit chat, Isabelle. What wing is Sherlock on?" Jim demands, eyes on the computer which held the information he desperately wanted.

"One sec..." She turns to the computer. She opens her mouth but Jim interrupts.

"Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."

She nods, typing on the keyboard. Jim grits his teeth a little, aware how much faster he could type and get the information he wanted from the computer. A dreadfully long minute later, Jim has the wing and section and is off again after a rushed and completely undeserving thanks to Isabelle.

"Bloody slow typing," Jim growls the words under his breath, coming to a stop and jabbing the little up arrow on the lift control panel.

The lift ride is, much like waiting for the room number, was painfully slow and Jim's fists balled together tighter and tighter, growing white, as the lift stopped to let more people in. Didn't these stupid people know that Jim had a boyfriend who could be seriously hurt that he needed to see right now?!

As he pushes passed a few people to dart onto the floor Sherlock was on, Jim does have a flash of guilt pass through him. Those people had people to see too.

It's soon forgotten when he arrives at the designated wing.

Jim can only see two of the four bed on the wing. The other two are surrounded by the thin blue curtain that passed for privacy. Jim took comfort in the fact Sherlock hadn't been moved to a private room and hopefully that meant he wasn't in a dire condition.

Stopping at the desk, Jim gives a small smile to the nurse sat at her station. "Which bed is Sherlock Holmes?" He asks, voice still rushed despite the polite tone as he pointed to the two beds on the far side which had their curtains drawn.

"Far right, hun."

Jim nods his thanks, making a beeline for the bed there. He doesn't look around at the other patients and visitors that cast him looks of sympathy. He just hoped that those looks were because of the general fact they, like he, knew the worry of having someone close to them in hospital.

When he reaches the curtain, Jim can hear John.

"You bloody idiot! You could have been killed!"

"Do shut up. I wasn't killed," came Sherlock's snarky reply.

Grinning in relief, Jim steps into the cramped area that was 95% covered by the bed. Whatever John was going to say was forgotten as both the men turn to look at the new arrival. Sherlock grins at his boyfriend as Jim's eyes run over Sherlock's body, searching for any kind of damage. When he saw none, he sighs happily and moves over to the bed. One of his arms wrap around Sherlock's neck, holding his face close as he buries his own in Sherlock's hair. All the panic and worry leak out of him and Jim can feel tears begin to prickle at the corner of his eyes.

He swallows and kisses Sherlock's hair before he pulls back.

Then, smile falling, Jim hits Sherlock's shoulder. "You!" he says, hitting again. "Scared. The. Living. Hell. Out. Of. Me!" With each word, Jim hit any part of Sherlock he could reach. His head, shoulders, arm, chest - but he avoided his face.

That stupid, beautiful, _laughing_ face. When Jim's finished hitting him, Sherlock looks up with a grin. Jim wanted to slap him and was just about to raise his hand and do just that when a hand gripped his neck and he was pulled down into a hard kiss that was more teeth and tongue than lips.

"Idiot," Jim sighs into the kiss.

Sherlock laughs but somehow their lips still don't separate completely until a moment later. When Jim pulls back, he was surprised to see that John had disappeared. Shrugging (because, if he's honest, he doesn't much care for John's whereabouts), Jim taps Sherlock's leg to get him to scoot over enough that he can sit on the edge.

Sherlock does, wrapping an arm around Jim's waist once he'd sat down. Jim leans into Sherlock, his head on the detective's shoulder.

"So, what exactly happened?"

"I was shot," Sherlock states, calmly.

Sitting up sharply, Jim looks at Sherlock with wide eyes and assesses him once again. "Shot?! Where?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock smiles again. "Not with a bullet. I was shot by a dart. The case involved poisonous darts."

"Y-you've been poisoned?" Jim asks, frowning in worry and scooting closer again.

Again, Sherlock shakes his head. "No. But they want to run checks and such, still." Sherlock rolls his eyes. "If John and these other idiots listened to me, they'd understand that if I _was_ poisoned then I'd be dead by now."

Jim swallows, nodding slowly before he rests his head on Sherlock's shoulder again and closes his eyes.

"Bloody idiot."

Sherlock snorts. "Such original insults."

Jim smirks. "Shut it, hoe."

That sends them both into a fit of giggles. Jim stops the laughter by turning his head and capturing Sherlock's lips in a slow, heart meltingly sweet kiss. Sherlock's lips were slightly chapped but Jim didn't care about that as one of his hands slide into Sherlock's curls and he pushes himself closer.

"I am very, _very_ glad that you're okay," Jim mumbles, kissing Sherlock again after the words pour out.

  
_I want to say it,_ Jim thinks to himself as they sit there and exchange lazy but sweet kisses. _I want to tell him.. that I think - no, that I do love him. Fucking hell... I love him!_  


He doesn't say the L word though, far more interested in exchanging kisses than to put those words out there just yet.

Later that night, once Jim is home (Sherlock had to stay in the hospital for the night), he does decide that it's time for him to show Sherlock what he meant to him. But not with those words. First, Jim had another way to show Sherlock how much he cared.

Smiling, he grabs his laptop.

\---

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_Owen Moriarty_

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_Don Davids_

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_Elizabeth Moriarty_

RE: Sherlock

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From: _EMoriarty110@gmail.co.uk_  


Subject: RE: Sherlock

I'm glad things are going well, Jim, but I would like to meet this man you don't seem to shut up about. Your father's interested too. You've been with him for some time now AND you've said yourself that it's 130% serious.. and you haven't even introduced him to your parents?!

Shameful. I expect a visit soon. From you both. Understood?

-Mum xoxox

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To: _EMoriarty110@gmail.co.uk_  


Subject: RE: Sherlock

I was just on my way to email you and ask if we could visit. I swear, you just predict my decisions and then play innocent, claiming it's a 'mothers instinct'.

Anyway. How's next weekend?

I haven't actually asked Sherlock if he's willing yet but I'm sure that he wouldn't mind and would even like to meet you.

Just promise: no baby pictures, okay?

_Please, no baby pictures._

Okay. Love you. Xxx

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_Google._

_[Google search] [I'm feeling lucky]_

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_Username: Jim_06_

_Password: pasS12 >woRd00_

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Welcome back, Jim_06!

You have two new messages and one friend request. [Click here to view friend requests]

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_[New Status]_

_Nice to see so many of you online..._

_Long time, no see. Or type..?_

_-Jim xx_

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MelonFucker138 wants to be your friend!

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_[23:29]_ Jim_06 is now friends with _MelonFucker138_  


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**MelonFucker138:** I love your page! Especially the pics you have. Please, please tell you have a Tumblr. This. Fandom. Needs. You.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** I do _< Click here to go to www.t...>_  


  
**_Jim_06_ :** Loving the name, btw.

  
**MelonFucker138** : Thanks! <3

  
**MelonFucker138:** Following you!

  
**_Jim_06:_** In that case, I should start posting more...

  
**MelonFucker138:** Yes, do!

\---

  
**DatAwesomeGuyDon:** Where are you? Damn, you got yourself a man or something? I never see you... talk to you... anymore.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** I do have a man, yes.

  
**_Jim_06:_** 30 odd people online and you're not one.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** You suck.

\---

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** You should be sleeping.

  
**_Jim_06:_** So should you.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** I got shot with a dart, I'm allowed to stay up late.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** You're an idiot.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Charming one, you are.

  
**_Jim_06:_** And you're stuck with me.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** A fact I am not complaining about at all.

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Mum wants to meet you.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Really?

  
**_Jim_06:_** Yeah.

  
**_Jim_06:_** I said that we'd go down next weekend.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** You want me to meet your parents?

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Of course I do.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Okay.

  
**_Jim_06:_** That's all your stating? 'Okay'?

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Yes. Am I meant to say more?

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Usually people say that they want to meet their boyfriend's parents and that they're swept away by this gesture.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** I thought you'd just assume that's how I feel.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Is that how you feel?

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Yes.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Hard to tell without seeing you.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** It's so dull here. I'd rather be at home with you, cuddling up in bed.

  
**_Jim_06:_** I think we'd both prefer that.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Well, you have Patrick.

  
**_Jim_06_ :** Patrick?

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** The big blue teddy I won you.

  
**_Jim_06:_** You named it Patrick?

  
**TheConsultingDetective** : He looks like a Patrick.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Hm. I suppose. Bit of an odd name for a teddy though.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** I officially dub him Patrick. You have no say in the matter. Sorry, love.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Git.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Love? That one's new.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Don't like it?

  
**_Jim_06_ :** No, it's fine. You never seemed the sort for pet names.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Not often.

  
_**Jim_06:** _ Okay. Well, it's nice.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** More pet names, then?

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** If you like. I've become quite fond of the way you call me James, if I'm honest...

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** I knew you would.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Idiot.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Only for you.

  
**_Jim_06:_** And when possibly poisonous darts are around, apparently.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Shut up.

  
**_Jim_06:_** I'm typing, dear, not speaking.

  
**_Jim_06:_** It's late...

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Tired?

  
**_Jim_06:_ ** Yeah.

  
**_Jim_06:_** Fearing for my gorgeous boyfriend's life does that.

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Go to sleep. If they don't release me by tomorrow noon, I'm forcing Mycroft to get them to release me.

  
**_Jim_06:_** I'll see you tomorrow then. Night xoxo

  
**TheConsultingDetective:** Goodnight, James. xx

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**Shutting Down...**

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	29. Don't you dare say sorry.

Many emotions were running wild inside Jim right now. He was excited. He was scared. He was worried. He was overjoyed. He was embarrassed, and hopeful, and nervous.

The pathway up to the building his parents called home was both too long and too short. He wanted to be there right now, introducing Sherlock to his parents and yet he wanted to walk slowly and take a breather to prepare himself.

Apparently Sherlock could sense his nerves because as they walk the detective takes hold of Jim's hand and gives it a squeeze, sending him a small smile too. Jim smiles back, his fingers locking tightly with Sherlock's in both an attempt to contain his nerves and to contain his excitement.

Jim was so busy looking at his gorgeous boyfriend that he almost walked into the front door, not realising that they'd already got there. Sherlock chuckles at him, earning himself an elbow in the side. As Sherlock yelps and rubs his side, Jim lets go of the other's hand to knock on the door.

When the door opens, Jim, as he expected, is pulled into a bone crushing hug before he even gets the chance to see his mother properly. When she releases him, much to his horror, she turns to Sherlock to do the same to him and even presses a small kiss on his cheek.

Oh, God. She was out to completely embarrass him, wasn't she?

"Mum..." Jim whines as a shocked looking Sherlock is released.

"Sorry," Elizabeth murmurs, even though she's not, before offering her hand to Sherlock. "Hello, Sherlock. It's nice to meet you. Jim's told me lots about you."

"I haven't," Jim protests but goes ignored by both.

"Good things, I hope," Sherlock smiles, going for charming rather than his usual bitchy self. Maybe next time he can show a bit more sass.

"Oh, the best," Elizabeth laughs before gesturing over her shoulder to Jim's dad who stood in the door way. "That's Jeremy and I'm Elizabeth. None of this Mr and Mrs Moriarty business, okay, makes me feel old."

Sherlock chuckles softly and nods. "Alright, Elizabeth."

Then she turns to Jim and stage-whispers "This one's a keeper,"

Jim groans and drags a hand over his face, wondering if it was too soon to grab Sherlock and their bags and to just turn back and spread the weekend wrapped up in Sherlock's arms and the bed. Even if he wanted to show Sherlock that he cared, he wasn't up for his mother's teasing all weekend.

They enter the house and Elizabeth walks with them up to Jim's old room, where he quickly snatches some posters off the wall and shoves them under the bed while Sherlock talks to his mother. She makes a comment about no 'frickle frackle' while they're here before leaving them to sort out their clothes.

Sighing, Jim leans into Sherlock's shoulder and just stays there, body limp. "We've been here for less than twenty minutes and she's already being embarrassing."

Sherlock's lips brush against Jim's forehead. "She's not bad. You're overreacting," He laughs and Jim gives a mock gasp of offence. "Now, I have a serious question."

Jim grows serious as Sherlock does. He nods. "Go on."

"What exactly did you hide under the bed?" Sherlock asks, smirking and loses his serious expression completely.

Jim feels his cheeks redden considerably. "Um, just a few posters of this celebrity..."

"Adorable," Sherlock murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he turns and begins to sort their clothes into the draws.

Sherlock doesn't ask of who and Jim just assume that he knows, being the clever thing he is.

Jim sits on the bed, enjoying watching Sherlock bend over to scoop up the clothes. How he got so God damn lucky, Jim will never know. Sherlock's smart, gorgeous, charming, sweet when it counts and funny. The full package.

"Enjoying the view?" Sherlock asks as he bends down again, wiggling his arse a little.

"Definitely," Jim hums with a smile.

"Sorry, your mother said no frickle frackle," Sherlock laughs, making Jim groan and fall backwards on the bed (which makes Sherlock giggle some more).

Before long, they find themselves downstairs again. Jim's mum has disappeared into the art room and Jim guesses they were going to be dragged in there very soon. For now, though, they sit at the breakfast counter in the kitchen and tea drink, making conversation with his dad.

Shockingly, Sherlock knew about some of the football stuff his dad mentioned. Jim had found it hard not to gape. Sherlock had glances at him with a look that told Jim it was a case/work reason he had this information.

Another thing that surprised Jim was when his mother emerges from the art room after an hour and doesn't drag them in. Well, they had the rest of the weekend. She doesn't embarrass him too much and before long they've all talked away hours. They were all very comfortable and Jim felt like they were already a little family.

As always, his dad goes for takeaway. The first and last days of Jim's visits are always takeaway nights. They go for a Chinese and while Jeremy is gone, Elizabeth pulls out a selection of scary movies and scrabble.

She places them on the table and Sherlock leans forward, raising an eyebrow.

"We have a choice?" He guesses.

Elizabeth chuckles and Jim sinks into the sofa, wishing it could swallow him up and make him disappear.

"No. Scrabbles for after. Or Jim will be frightened all night and won't sleep. You haven't watched a scary movie together yet?" She frowns a little before winking at Jim.

He mumbles something inaudible. Had she heard, he'd have got a flick round the ear.

"No. If we do watch films, they're usually comedies," Sherlock explains.

"Well, prepare to have Jim hide behind you and latch on like a koala."

Smiling, Sherlock's hand settles on Jim's knee as he catches his eye. "I can handle it."

Jim was torn between 'awh'ing and hitting him. In the end, he just smiles a little while his mother gushes about how adorable they are. She quickly turns to put the DVD in and while she does, Sherlock steals a kiss. That just makes Jim smile. He felt like a teenager all over again. Bringing the boyfriend home and having him steal kisses behind the parent's backs.

Half an hour later, Jim was no longer smiling. He was digging his nails into Sherlock's arm, clutching his bowl of Chinese food and unable to peel his eyes away from the screen.

"No. Idiot left the door open," Jim murmurs. "Oh, God. She's going to be brutally murdered. I can't look. I can't look. I can not look," Despite his protests, Jim continues to watch as the blonde girl walks slowly around the house, breathing down the phone to her friend.

Sherlock's shoulders shake in a silent chuckle but he happily sets his left hand in top of Jim's. Once the food disappears, they shift so Jim's head is on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock has an arm wrapped protectively around Jim. If he weren't so focused on the movie, Jim might have seen the proud glances he received from his parents.

The killer approaches, on screen, lifting his knife. Jim buries his face in Sherlock's chest as there's a chilling cry of agony from the main character. When Jim looks up, the killer is staring right at him from the screen.

'You're next,' He whispers before the credits roll.

He knows it shouldn't freak him out so much but it really did. He's shaking slightly as he clutches onto Sherlock. He only releases his grip slightly when his mum turns the light on.

She gives Jim a sympathetic smile before setting up scrabble.

They play until Jim can barely keep his eyes open. Then they all exchange their goodnights and head to bed. Sherlock and Jim drift off right away, making a few comments about how well today went before snores filled their room.

The next night passes in the same way. A movie, scrabble and then bed. Except this time, Sherlock and Jim weren't so sleepy and were laying awake, cuddled together. Jim held one of Sherlock's hand in his right hand, using his left to draw random patterns with his finger.

"It was nice of your mum to let us in the art room," Sherlock says, using the arm he had around Jim's shoulders to squeeze slightly.

"I'm not surprised. I expected us to be dragged in on the first day here," Jim shrugs before looking up at Sherlock. He arches his neck to kiss Sherlock. "I'm glad you're here with me. Thank you. I know that this... normal family stuff is kind of boring to you."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Don't thank me. And this isn't boring at all. I want to be a part of your life and I'm more than happy to be here, meeting your parents. Who cares if it's 'normal'? I want to be with you and do all this 'boring, normal family stuff',"

Jim just kisses him again. Sherlock hums but pulls back before Jim could deepen the kiss. His eyes pierce Jim's and he smiles, hands moving to cup Jim's face.

"I love you," He murmurs.

Both of their eyes widen, neither having expected the words to slip out. Jim freezes, staring at Sherlock. When Jim doesn't say anything for a few moments too long, Sherlock's hands drop and he looks to the side so Jim can't look into his eyes.

"James, I'm-"

Jim stops him before he can get any further. He takes hold of Sherlock's chin and forces him to look at him. "Don't you dare say you're sorry," He orders, sternly. Then all signs of aggression fades and he rolls so he could kiss Sherlock easier.

"Because..." He says between a kiss, trailing off a little, "I love you, Sherlock and don't want you to be sorry for feeling the same," He whispers words against his lips.

Sherlock's breathing hitches, in both relief and surprise. No more words are exchanged as they press kiss after kiss to each other's lips.

Jim's heart beats steadily in his chest, but the rate at which it beats shoots up. Occasionally, he feels his heart stutter from the raw emotion running through him.

Jim feels moisture collect in his eyes as they kiss.

He has to pull back and wipes his eyes. He laughs at himself, feeling a tad pathetic. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Sherlock smiles and kisses Jim's nose.

Jim wrinkles his face up, making Sherlock laugh.

It may not have been an incredibly emotional talk and they may not have gave detailed descriptions of how they felt or why and there was no dramatic build ups or moments where one of them ran off before the words could be returned and there was no flowers or gifts or whatever else people seem to produce when declaring their love, but it still felt utterly perfect to Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we wait for the last chapter to be edited and it's on to the sequel...


	30. I Love You But No.

  
Jim was nervous as hell and a big part of him wanted to stand up and run far, far away.

Eight months.

Thirty two weeks.

Two hundred and forty four days.

That's how long they'd been together. Eight whole months, and Jim was very much ready for the step he was about to take. That didn't stop him from feeling on the verge of vomiting because he was as so nervous.

In front of Jim sat a small rectangle box, the lid closed and keeping what it held within a secret for now.

He just stares at it. God knows for how long.

When he hears a knock at the door, Jim snatches the box from the table and stands in a rush. The box is stuffed inside his blazer pocket before he pulls it down, straightening the suit.

They were going out to some fancy restaurant that Sherlock knew and so Jim was taking full advantage of the formal dress code and was wearing one of his favourite Westwood suits - the navy one. He loved this one and thought that Vivienne's suits were worth every pay check he had to save (which, really, wasn't any because Jim always saves and saves - he's like his mother in that sense).

After he's straightened his clothing, Jim walks over to the door to let Sherlock in. Another rush of nausea washes over him and he frowns a little, thinking maybe that ill feeling wasn't just because of his nerves.

Then he's grinning, sick feeling forgotten, because in front of him is his gorgeous boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. He's dressed in that damn purple shirt too.

"Hello, Sher-cock."

Chuckling, Sherlock steps close and plants a kiss on Jim's lips. That makes Jim huff and frown. Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"You're meant to get annoyed by the nickname," Jim explains.

Sherlock just shrugs, his fingers sliding down Jim's arm and lacing with Jim's own fingers. "Ready to go?"

Jim shakes his head. All his nerves hit him, full throttle, again.

Oh, God. He thinks he's going to be sick...

"I.." Jim clears his throat, head spinning. He swallows. "Before we go.. I.. There's something I want to ask you."

It probably seems out of the ordinary to ask him now. Jim had his reasons.

For one, he did not want to ask with people around. And secondly, this way they could celebrate two things at dinner. Jim thought this method was rather genius, actually.

Frowning, Sherlock nods. "Okay." Jim doesn't say a word for a moment. "You look a bit pale... Are you okay, James?"

Jim nods and breathes out slowly, not realising he'd been holding his breath. He reaches into his blazer pocket and as his fingers close around the little box, he looks up to meet Sherlock's eyes.

"I..." He can't speak.

Instead, he pulls the box out and thrusts it into Sherlock's hands. He's panting now, breaking out into a sweat. He can feel the ill feeling rising and he very nearly doubles over and ruins their nice shoes. Somehow, he stills, breathes deeply and stops himself.

Sherlock's eyes are fixed on the box. Then he's shaking his head rapidly and Jim can see his mouth forming the word 'no' over and over. The box is practically launched back at Jim.

"James... I.. Fuck, I love you, okay, but no. No. This is.. Just no."

Jim frowns and looks down at his feet, box held limply in his hand. He nods, swallowing back tears now. Sherlock said no...

His mum was wrong. She said Sherlock would love this and think it was rather amusing. The amusing bit struck him as odd but he let her convince him either way.

"O-okay," Jim mumbles the word. He can't bring himself to look at Sherlock. He winces at the stutter and clenches his free fist.

"God... I.. Maybe in a few years I'll be ready. But for now, I don't think we should take the step up to being fiancés."

That causes Jim's head to snap up. He frowns, bemused. Then it all clicks.

"I am going to kill my mother..." He looks down at the box. "How the hell didn't I see that?" Jim mutters to him, shaking his head.

When he looks up, Sherlock looks confused. Jim takes his hand and places the box in it.

"Jim, I said-"

"Open it," Jim says, smirking.

Sherlock's eyebrow knit together but he does as he's told. Jim can see his fingers shaking as he goes to lift the lid. Jim's eyes stay on Sherlock's face as he lifts the kid and he can't help but smile when Sherlock's eyes light up in realisation and shock.

"I'm not proposing," Jim laughs.

Sherlock pulls the key out the box. He meets Jim's eyes. "Who the hell puts a key in a box like this?!" He half-shouts.

Jim still smiles. "Er, my mum said it was a good idea.. I didn't think about it - didn't think about what it looked like."

Sherlock breathes a sigh of relief and wraps his arms around Jim, holding him close. Jim hugs back, burying his face in Sherlock's chest.

"You really want me to live here?" Sherlock whispers, voice shaking slightly.

Jim nods. "You practically live here anyway."

Laughing, Sherlock presses a kiss to Jim's head. He then pulls back and goes to lean in for a proper kiss. Jim's stomach rolls and he turns his head away, panting again. He then realised he was still sweating.

"Jim?" Sherlock asks, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I, er, don't feel so good" Jim admits, pushing a hand to his head. "Think maybe I'm coming down with something."

Sherlock moves Jim's hand away and presses the back of his hand to Jim's head. His eyes widen and he looks down at Jim's face, eyes shining with worry.

"Jesus. You're burning up," Sherlock quickly pushes Jim back inside the door and closes it behind them.

"The reservations!" Jim whines. "We're meant to be celebrating."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Nope. You've got a fever. I'm not taking you out like this. We're going to stay here and I'm going to look after you." With a warm smile, Sherlock kisses Jim's nose which makes him wrinkle his face up like always.

Jim wants to argue some more because it's their anniversary and Sherlock's going to be moving in but, in the end, he sighs and nods because he doesn't feel like using energy or - if he's honest - going out.

Sherlock gets him to change into his pyjamas and Jim silently asks Viv for forgiveness and promises that he will use one of the suits soon. When he's tucked into bed, Sherlock makes them chicken soup and basically becomes Jim's tea maid for the night. He also checks Jim's temperature with one of those strip things that came with the first aid kit. He then makes a call to John to get Jim a quick prescription for some medicine. After said medicine arrives, they cuddle and talk about when Sherlock will move his things and Jim decides that, even if he was sick, it was a pretty nice way for them to spend their anniversary.

In the morning, Jim trails out of bed with a headache and a runny nose - not to mention his stomach was still verging on the edge of imploding and making him puke up his insides. He groggily makes tea for himself and Sherlock before returning to the bed and poking his sexy boyfriend's cheek.

"Ugh," Sherlock grunts, slowing waking up.

Jim waits patiently while Sherlock stretches and slowly sits up, ruffling his curls as he does. While Sherlock's half asleep, Jim takes a moment to appreciate his boyfriend's body and curses whatever God up there decided he should have a cold on their anniversary.

Whimpering, for numerous reasons, Jim snuggles against Sherlock and hands him his tea.

"Feeling better?" Sherlock asks, an arm wrapping around Jim while his free hand accepted the tea.

"Worse," Jim pouts, shaking his head.

Sherlock makes a noise that could only be described as a concerned tut. Like he was concerned for Jim but tutting at the cold for even existing. Jim agreed wholeheartedly that colds should be tutted until they disappeared from existence.

Jim presses his face into Sherlock's bare chest, thankful for the warmth and comfort. He was a terribly whiny and needy person when he was ill. So, really, he was lucky that Sherlock worried about him so much. This was the first time Jim had been ill since they got together though, so Jim doubts that in a few years Sherlock will be able to tolerate him as much.

"Hate being ill," Jim mumbles the words, turning his face a moment later to sip his tea.

His stomach immediately gives a lurch of disapprove and, grimacing, Jim puts his tea on the bedside table. He then proceeds to go back to cuddling Sherlock, who was extremely cuddly (despite all the sharp lines and general bony-ness of him).

They spend the day doing nothing at all. They move into the living room and watch crappy telly, Jim calls in to tell Molly he wouldn't be at work for the day (seeing as Monday was already upon them). Jim also spends a good portion of his time refusing to kiss Sherlock while he was all bunged up.

Being ill is the worst. Especially when you have Sherlock Holmes pouting at you with those big, sad, blue eyes that Jim found very, very hard to resist when he was 100% percent healthy - never mind when he was ill.

"Awh, Jim, c'mon, one kiss!" Sherlock is practically begging.

Jim shakes his head, silently thanking his mother for being stubborn as hell and a bad example. "No. You'll get ill too."

"I won't. Just one kiss!"

Jim shakes his head again, firmly standing his ground and avoiding those irresistible eyes. Sherlock jumps up, having one hundred  times more energy than Jim, and sinks to his knees so he could lift Jim's chin and force him to look at him.

 _Ass,_ Jim thinks.  _Knows he's irresistible._

"One kiss?" Sherlock raises an eyebrow, voice all innocent as his eyes sparkle in that way they do when he's being manipulative.

Jim sighs, melting as Sherlock's hands smooth over his upper arms and slide around his neck. Jim leans forward, down a little bit too considering Sherlock was kneeling, and kisses Sherlock softly. His eyes slide closed as Sherlock let out a little hum of approval and moves his lips with Jim's.

It's slow and sweet and makes Jim's heart do one of those painful but nice stutters that Sherlock seems to constantly make it do. Jim told Sherlock once how he made him react and Sherlock had smiled wildly and teased Jim relentlessly before admitting that Jim had his heart do the same.

When he was growing up, Jim always imagined being with some shining prince of perfect with soft, fluffy blonde hair that would hold him and be the sweetest person ever. But he found that he much preferred this relationship full of teasing and sarcasm and laughs with this curly haired devil. He wouldn't trade Sherlock for that blonde prince any day.

He really couldn't imagine being without Sherlock. Especially when the detective kissed him like this; full of emotion, full of desire, sweet, gentle and  _loving._

When they pull away from each other, Jim's panting lightly and not because he's ill. Blushing softly, Jim averts his eyes.

"Idiot. Now you're get ill," Jim mutters, feigning anger.

Sherlock jumps up with a chuckle, picking up their tea mugs.

"I hope not. Because that kiss wasn't really worth it," He teases as he straightens and turns towards the kitchen.

Jim narrows his eyes, sniffs, and allows his fingers to wrap around the slim remote control that sat beside him. With a devilish grin, he raises his arm and takes aim at the unsuspecting Sherlock. 


End file.
